Mary Minds Her Business | Page 9

he placed her in a chair by the side of his desk,
and you can guess whether she missed anything of what went on.
Clerks, business callers, heads of departments came and went. All had a
smile for Mary who gravely smiled in return and straightway became
her dignified little self again.
"When is Mr. Woodward expected back?" Josiah asked a clerk.
"On the ten-thirty, from Boston."
This was Stanley Woodward, Josiah's cousin--Cousin Stanley of the
spider's web whom you have already met. He was now the general
manager of the factory, and had always thought that fate was on his
side since the night he had heard of Martha's death and that the child
she left behind her was a girl.
Josiah glanced at his watch.
"Time to make the rounds," he said and, lifting Mary on his arm, he left
the office and started through the plant.
And, oh, how Mary loved it--the forests of belts, whirring and twisting
like live things, the orderly lines of machine tools, each doing its work
with more than human ingenuity and precision, the enormous presses

reminding her of elephants stamping out pieces of metal, the grinders
which sang to her, the drilling machines which whirred to her, the
polishing machines which danced for her, the power hammers which
bowed to her. Yes, and better than all was the smile that each man gave
her, smiles that came from the heart, for all the quiet respect that
accompanied them.
"It's his daughter," they whispered as soon as Josiah was out of hearing.
Here and there one would stop smiling and say, "I remember the day he
brought her mother through--"
At the end of one of the workshops, Mr. Spencer looked at his watch
again.
"We'd better get back to the office," he said. "Tired, dear?"
In a rapture of denial, she kicked her little toes against his side.
"Bred in the bone..." he mused. "Eh, if she had only been a boy...!" But
that was past all sighing for, and in the distance he saw Cousin Stanley,
just back from Boston, evidently coming to find him.
Mary, too, was watching the approaching figure. She had sometimes
seen him at the house and had formed against him one of those
instinctive dislikes which few but children know. As Stanley drew near
she turned her head and buried her face against her father's shoulder.
"Good news?" asked Josiah.
"Good news, of course," said Stanley, speaking as an irresistible force
might speak, if it were endowed with a tongue. "When Spencer & Son
start out for a thing, they get it." You could tell that what he meant was
"When Stanley Woodward starts out for a thing, he gets it." His elbows
suddenly grew restless. "It will take a lot of money," he added. "Of
course we shall have to increase the factory here--"
Still Mary kept her face hidden against her father's shoulder.

"Got the little lady with you, I see."
"Yes; I'm afraid I've tired her out."
A murmur arose from his shoulder.
"What?" said Josiah. "Not tired? Then turn around and shake hands
with Uncle Stanley."
Slowly, reluctantly, Mary lifted her head and began to reach out her
hand. Then just before their fingers would have touched, she quickly
clasped her hands around her father's neck and again she buried her
face upon his shoulder.
"She doesn't seem to take to you," said Josiah.
"So it seems," said the other dryly. Reaching around he touched Mary's
cheek with the back of his finger. "Not mad at your uncle, are you, little
girl?" he asked.
"Don't!" said Josiah, speaking with quick concern. "You're only making
her tremble...."
The two stared at each other, slightly frowning. Stanley was the first to
catch himself. "I'll see you at the office later," he said, and with a bow
at the little figure on Josiah's arm he added with a touch of irony,
"Perhaps I had better wait until you're alone!"
He turned and made his way back to the office, his elbows grown
restless again.
"A good thing it isn't a boy," he thought, "or he might not like me when
he grows up, either. But a girl... Oh, well, as it happens, girls don't
count.... And a good thing, too, they don't," he thoughtfully added. "A
good thing, too, they don't...."

CHAPTER V

Mary grew, and grew, and grew.
She never outgrew her aversion to Uncle Stanley, though.
One day, when she was in Josiah's office, a young man entered and was
warmly greeted by her father. He carried a walking stick, sported a
white edging on his waistcoat and had just the least suspicion of
perfumery on him--a faint scent that reminded Mary of raspberry jam.
"He smells nice," she thought, missing nothing of this.