Black Rainbow Read Online Free PDF Page B

perfumed odors—which was certainly not the case.
    It was a curious little room, quite unlike Megan's vague notions of what such establishments should be. Papers and account books were everywhere, and a table was littered with samples of the fabrics manufactured in the mill—tangled webs of scarlet and Lincoln-green thread, swatches of vivid plaids and stripes, and every solid color from black to pale cream. But there were several incongruous features— green plants on the windowsill, a few comfortable chairs, and a table near them holding a plain silver tea set, like the sort of arrangement that might be found in a lady's sitting room.
    Lina went at once to the windowsill, announcing with a comically knowledgeable air, "The flowers are very thirsty, Aunt Jane. Shall I give them water?"
    "Yes, please. You know where to find it."
    The child picked up a small watering can and hurried out. Miss Mandeville waved a hospitable hand toward the overstuffed chairs. Seating herself behind her desk, she seemed to gain a foot in height.
    "I had a chair specially made," she explained. "It was easier to have the chair raised than the desk lowered; and I believe it puts one at a disadvantage to be so much smaller than the workmen and buyers who face one across it."
    Megan was much struck by the cleverness of this idea. "And this cozy little corner, like a lady's parlor?"
    "That is another of my sly schemes," said Miss Mandeville, trying in vain to look devious. "It disarms some of the gentlemen in a way you would scarcely believe. After a nice chat and a cup of tea, they are unable to complain when I present them with their bill."
    A succession of workmen and clerks followed one another into the room, each with a report or a problem of some kind. Megan listened in growing amazement. She could not imagine how one small head, however clever, could keep track of the multitudinous details brought to its attention.
    From time to time Jane tossed her an explanation. "We maintain an infirmary in connection with the mill. We do our best to avoid injury, but some accidents are inevitable. Which reminds me that I meant to ask. . . . Ah, here he is now. Good morning, Sam. You are late today."
    "I had to have repairs made on the throstle. I told you yesterday the flyers wasn't right."
    The speaker was young and rather short in stature, and so broad of chest and shoulder that his height appeared to be less than it actually was. When he removed his cap a tuft of black hair sprang up at the back of his head. He put up his hand to flatten it, in a gesture as habitual as it was ineffective, glancing rather selfconsciously at Megan as he did so. His features, rounded and rather coarse, reminded her of someone, but she could not think who.
    "If it happens again, we must consider replacing the throstle," Miss Mandeville said. "There is a new model. . . ."
    The ensuing conversation was unintelligible to Megan, so she turned her attention to Lina, who had finished tending the plants and was foraging among a heap of papers on a side table, looking for a blank sheet on which to draw a picture. Miss Mandeville appeared to be paying no attention, but before long she said suddenly, "Sam, have you time to show Miss O'Neill around the mill? (Miss O'Neill —Mr. Sam Freeman, one of our foremen.) And take Lina with you, please, Sam, she is wrecking havoc with my papers. Bring them back—preferably without stains—in an hour."
    With a shriek of joy Lina flung herself at Sam. "I want to see the big pots of paint!"
    He stooped to pick her up and, with a smile that transformed his rough features amazingly, said, "Do you then, my honey? I make no promise about stains, Miss Jane; this one is like a magnet to attract the dye, even though I hold her safe away from the vats."
    "I know," Miss Mandeville agreed, with a sigh. "The last time her frock looked like a cleaning rag, every color of the rainbow. Do your best; a man can do no more."
    Shifting the child to his shoulder,