There was a pause. “You haven’t told
me your name,” put in Samuel suddenly.
“I thought you’d guess,” said the
other with a laugh.
“How could I?”
“Why—don’t you know what place
this is?”
“No,” said Samuel. “What?”
And his companion replied, “It’s the Lockman
place.”
Samuel caught his breath and clutched at the seat.
“The Lockman place!” he panted; and then
again, “The Lockman place!”
He stared ahead at the great building, with the broad
porticos and the snow-white columns. He could
hardly credit his ears.
“I’m the old man’s son,” added
the stranger genially. “Albert’s my
name. They call me Bertie.”
Properly to understand the thrill which this revelation
brought to Samuel, one would have to consider the
state of his mind. With all the power of his
being Samuel was seeking for excellence; and a great
and wise man had explained to him what were the signs
by which this quality was known. And in the “struggle
for existence” old Henry Lockman had succeeded
more than any other man of whom Samuel had ever heard
in his life. He owned these huge glass works,
and many others all over the country. He owned
the trolley roads, and the gas works, and the water
works; the place had been named after him, and the
great college also. For many years he had even
run the government of the town, so Finnegan had stated.
And here was this huge estate, his home--a palace
fit for a king. How great must have been the excellence
of such a man! And what benefits he must have
conferred upon the world, to have been rewarded with
all this power and glory!
And here was his son—a youth in aspect
fitting perfectly to Samuel’s vision; a very
prince of the blood, yet genial and free-hearted—
noblesse oblige! To him had descended these virtues
and excellences— and all the estates and
powers as the sign and symbol thereof. And now
had come a poor ignorant country boy, and it had fallen
to his fortune to save the life of this extraordinary
being. And he was to have a chance to be near
him, and to serve him—to see how he lived,
and to find out the secret of his superior excellence.
There was no snobbery in Samuel’s attitude;
he felt precisely as another and far greater Samuel
had felt when his sovereign had condescended to praise
his dictionary, and the tears of gratitude had started
into his eyes.
They drove up before the palace, and a groom came
hurrying up. “Phillips,” said young
Lockman, “look at that rein!”
The groom stared aghast.
“Take it and show it to Sanderson,” the
other continued. “Ask him if I don’t
pay enough for my harness that he gets me stuff like
that.”
“Yes, sir,” said the groom.
They alighted and crossed the broad piazza, which
was covered with easy chairs and tables and rugs.
In the entrance hall stood a man in livery.
