Of one thing he was sure--no confiding
young Gilberts would be fleeced in his present occupation--not if
he knew anything about it.
Moreover, the outdoor life which he had so longed for was his
again. On Saturday afternoons and Sundays he tramped the hills, or
spent hours rowing on the river. His employer's villa was also
always open to him--a privilege not granted to the others in the
working force. The old tie of family was the sesame. Judge Breen's
son was, both by blood and training, the social equal of any man,
and although the distinguished engineer, being well born himself,
seldom set store on such things, he recognized his obligation in
Jack's case and sought the first opportunity to tell him so.
"You will find a great change in your surroundings, Mr. Breen," he
had said. "The little hotel where you will have to put up is
rather rough and uncomfortable, but you are always welcome at my
home, and this I mean, and I hope you will understand it that way
without my mentioning it again."
The boy's heart leaped to his throat as he listened, and a dozen
additional times that day his eyes had rested on the clump of
trees which shaded the roof sheltering Ruth.
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