One who has all the cares of humanity upon his shoulders, as Samuel had, is apt to find that it claims a good deal of time. Samuel did his best to keep his mind upon the weighty problems which he had to solve; but he found that he was continually distracted by the thought of Miss Gladys. Again and again her image would sweep over him, driving everything else from his mind. The vision of her beauty haunted him, sending his imagination upon all sorts of strange excursions and adventures.

She had told him to come again; and he wondered how long he should wait. He was supposed to come to see Sophie—but that, of course, was absurd, for he saw Sophie every night at home.

He waited three days; and then he could wait no longer. The hunger to see her was like a fire smoldering in him.

In the morning, at eleven o'clock, he went to the house and Sophie came to the door. “I'll tell her you're here,” said she, understanding at once. She ran upstairs, and came back telling him to come. “And she's glad, Samuel!” exclaimed the child.

“Won't you come, too?” he asked blunderingly.

“No, she told me not to,” was Sophie's reply.

So he went upstairs to Miss Wygant's own sitting room, and found her in a morning gown, even more beautiful than the one she had worn before.

“You don't know how glad I am to see you,” she said.

Samuel admitted that he didn't know; and he added, “And I don't know why you should be, Miss Gladys.”

Miss Gladys stood looking at him. “You find things interesting, don't you?” she asked.

“Why, yes, Miss Gladys,” he replied.

“And I find things so tiresome.”

“Tiresome!” gasped the boy. “Here—in this house!”

“It seems strange to you, does it?” said she.

“Why you have everything in the world!” he cried.

“Yes, and I'm tired of everything.”

The boy was looking at her in wonder. “It's true,” she said. “Everybody I meet is uninteresting—they live such dull and stupid lives. I'm shut up here in this town—I've got to spend a whole month here this summer!”

Samuel gazed at her, and a wave of pity swept over him. He had felt for some time that she was not happy. So here was one more duty for him—he must help this beautiful young lady to a realization of her own good fortune.

The thought set him athrill. “Ah, but Miss Gladys!” he exclaimed. “Think how much good you do!”

“Good?” said she. “In what way?”

“Why—think of Sophie! How happy you've made her.”

“Yes,” she said dully. “I suppose so.”

“And me!” he exclaimed.

“Have I made you happy?” she inquired.

And he answered, “I have never been so happy in my life.”

All the wonder that was in his soul shone in his eyes, and arrested her gaze. They stood looking at each other; and then she came to him laughing. “Samuel,” she said, “you haven't got that tie right.”

And once more her fingers touched him, and her breath was upon him, and the glory of her set him on fire. A new wave of feeling swept over him, and this time it swamped him completely. His heart was pounding, his brain was reeling; and blindly, like a drunken man—almost without knowing what he was doing—he put out his arms and caught her to him.

And then, in an instant, horror seized him. What had he done? She would repel him—she would drive him from her! He had ruined everything!

But another instant sufficed to show him that this was not the case. And the tide of his feeling swept back redoubled. From the hidden regions of his soul there came new emotions, suddenly awakened—things tremendous and terrifying—never guessed by him before. His manhood came suddenly to consciousness—he lost all his shyness and fear of her. She was his—to do what he pleased with! And he pressed her to him, he half crushed her in his embrace. She closed her eyes, and he kissed her upon the cheeks and upon the lips; then he heard her voice, faint and trembling—“Samuel, I love you!” And within him it was like a great fanfare of trumpets, for wonder and triumph and delirious joy.

Suddenly there came a step in the hall outside. They sprang apart. The door of the room was open; and for an instant he saw wild terror in her eyes.

Then she sank down upon her knees. “Oh, Samuel!” she exclaimed. “My ring!”

“Your ring!” he echoed, dazed.

“My ring!” she said again; then he heard the voice of Mrs. Harris in the doorway. “Your ring, Miss Gladys?”

“I dropped it,” she said; and Samuel sank down upon his knees also.

They sought under the table. “It fell here,” she said. “It's my solitaire.”

“It must have rolled,” said Mrs. Harris, beginning to search.

“Put your head down and look about, Samuel,” commanded Miss Gladys, and Samuel obeyed; but he did not find any ring.

They continued the search for a minute. Mrs. Harris had come back to the table; and suddenly she exclaimed, “Here it is!”

“What!” cried the other. “Why, I looked there!”

“It was under the leg of the table,” explained the housekeeper.

“Ah!” said the other, and put the precious ring back upon her finger.

Samuel was overwhelmed with astonishment; but it was nothing to what he felt a moment later. His goddess turned to him. “No,” she said. “I'm sorry, Samuel, but it's impossible for me to do what you ask me.”

He stared at her perplexed.

“I have found a place for Sophie,” she went on, “and that is positively all I can do.”

“Miss Gladys!” he exclaimed.

“Really,” she said, “I think you ought not to ask me to do any more. I understand that there is a good deal of suffering among the mill people, and I do what I can to relieve it. But as for taking all the employees into my father's household—that is simply absurd.”

The boy could not find words. He could only stare at her. “That's all,” said Miss Gladys. “And about those flower seeds—do what you can to find them. I want them in a few days, if I'm to use them at all. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Miss Gladys,” he stammered. He had seen her dart a swift glance at the housekeeper, and he was beginning at last to comprehend.

“Bring them to me yourself,” she added. “Good-by.”

“Good-by, Miss Gladys,” he said, and went out.

He went downstairs, marveling. But before he was halfway down the first flight of steps he had forgotten everything except those incredible words—“Samuel, I love you!” They rang in his head like a trumpet call.

He could not hold himself in. He could not carry away such a secret. Sophie went to the door with him; and he took her outside and whispered it to her.

The child stared at him, with awe in her eyes. “Samuel!” she whispered, “she must mean to marry you!”

The boy started in dismay. “Marry me!” he gasped. “Marry me!”

“Why, yes!” said Sophie. “What else can she mean?”

That was a poser. “But—but—” he cried. “It's absurd!”

“It's not, Samuel! She loves you!”

“But I'm nothing but a poor boy!”

“But, Samuel, she has plenty of money!”

It had not occurred to Samuel that way; but he had to admit that it was true. “But I'm not good enough,” he protested.

“You are good enough for anyone!” cried Sophie. “You are noble and beautiful—and she has found it out. And she means to stoop and lift you up to her.”

The boy was silent, stricken with awe. “Oh, Samuel, it is just like in the fairy stories!” whispered the child. “You are to be the prince!”

So she went on, pouring out the wonder of it to him, and thrilling his soul to yet new flights.

He left her at last and walked down the street half dazed. He was to marry Miss Gladys! Yes, it must be true, for she had told him that she loved him! And then, presumably, he would come to live in that great palace. How could he ever stand it? What would he do?

And he would be a rich man! A great surge of triumph came to him. What would the people at home say—what would his brothers think when he went to pay them a visit, and perhaps to buy the old place?

But he put these thoughts away from him. He must not think of such things—it was selfish and ignoble. He must think of the good that he would be able to do with all the money. He might help the poor at last. He and Miss Gladys would devote their lives to this. Perhaps some day he might even own the mill where the children worked, and he would be able to send them all to school! And he would be a member of the Lockman family, in a way—he might even have some influence over Master Albert! And Ethel and Dr. Vince—how happy they would be when they heard of his good fortune!

In the end his thoughts left all these things, and came back to Miss Gladys. After all, what counted but that? She loved him! She was his! And like a swiftly spreading fire there came over him the memory of what he had done to her; he walked on, trembling with wonder and fear. It was a kind of madness in his blood. It had taken possession of his whole being—he would never again be the same! He stretched out his arms as he walked down the street, because his emotions were greater than he could bear.

Then suddenly, in the midst of the turmoil, a sight met his eyes which brought him back to the world. Approaching him, about to pass him, was an old man with a gray beard, stooping as he walked and carrying a peddler's basket. The disguise was excellent, but it did not deceive Samuel for an instant. He stood stock-still and cried in amazement: “Charlie Swift!”

The peddler shot a quick glance at him. “Shut up!” he muttered; and then he passed on, and left Samuel staring.

So with a sudden rush, a new set of emotions overwhelmed the boy. He was only a week away from the burglary; and yet it was an age. And how terrible it seemed—how almost incredible! And here was he, about to marry the daughter of a millionaire—while his friend and confederate was still skulking in the shadows, hiding from the police.

Of all the distressed people whom Samuel had met in the course of his adventures, Charlie Swift was the only one whom he had not benefited. And simply to set eyes upon him was to hear in his soul a new call. How could he pursue his own gratifications while Charlie was left a prey to wickedness?

The figure almost passed from sight while Samuel stood wrestling with the problem. He shrunk from the task before him; he was afraid of Charlie Swift, afraid of his cynical smile, and of his merciless sneering. But his duty was clear before him—as clear as that of any soldier, who in the midst of love and pleasure hears the bugle call. He might not be able to do anything for Charlie. But he must try!

And so he turned and followed the old peddler to his home.