“So you see, Janet, that, even if you were not so rich yourself, I have plenty of money at your service.”

I thanked him most heartily, and roused myself to show some interest in all that concerned him.

So passed the rest of the week,—­quiet days with my landlady, or in my room, where I busied myself in putting my wardrobe into better shape under the direction of Mrs. Barnum, and quiet walks and talks in the evening with Tom Salyers.  It was evident that he was not satisfied with my alleged motives for leaving home, but I so steadily avoided all conversation on this point that he learned to respect my silence.  On Sunday he told me he had found out who Mr. Kendall was.

“One of the stockholders of the Company, and a good man, they say.  I’ll go to him to-morrow, if you say so, Janet, and ask him anything you want to know.”

“No, Tom, I shall go myself.  It is my business, and I must not let you do so much for me.  If you will go with me, though,”—­I added.

And so the next morning saw us at Mr. Kendall’s counting-room.  It was before business-hours:  we had cared for that.  We found Mr. Kendall sitting leisurely over his papers, his feet up and his spectacles pushed back.  I had been nervous enough during the walk, but a glance at his face reassured me.  It was a good, a fatherly face, full of bonhommie, but showing, withal, a spice of business-shrewdness.  I left Tom standing at the counting-room door, and, taking my fate in my own hands, walked forward and made myself known.

“Oh, yes! the little girl that Hammond thought so much of, that he talks about so often when he is down here.  He thinks a school or two would bring the Sandy people out, and holds you up as an example; but, for my part, I think you are an exception.  There are not many of them that one could do much with.”

I turned quickly.

“This is Tom Salyers, Sir, head-workman, overseer, at your coal-yard, and he is a Sandy man.”

Mr. Kendall laughed.

“I see I must not say anything against the Sandy country; nor need I just now.  Walk in, Mr. Salyers.  So, Miss Janet, you have come down to seek your fortune, earn your living, you say.  I suppose Hammond sent you to me.  Did you bring me a letter from him?”

I hesitated.

“No, Sir.  Mr. Hammond was so much occupied when I came away that I had not seen him for a day or two.  He has friends staying with him.”

“True enough.  Mr. Worthington has gone up there with his pretty daughter to see whether he can allow her to bury herself in the country.  You saw Miss Worthington?  Will she be popular among your people when she is Mrs. Hammond?”

I caught a glimpse of Tom’s face, and felt myself turning pale as I answered, with a composure that did not seem to come from my own strength,—­

“Miss Worthington is a very pleasant-spoken young lady.  The people will like her, because she seems to care for them, just as Mr. Hammond does.  But do you think, Sir, that you could put me in the way of teaching school?  Could I learn how to do it?”