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58 I don’t see how he will ever finish it. Maybe some younger man will carry it on. That’s what he said. He said he’d be relieved to know there was some one to keep on with it if he dropped out, some one who understood his ideas thoroughly. It would mean a lot to fit one’s self to carry on this really great book, but maybe if I did my best” Mark left his sentence unfinished.

Mary caught at its meaning eagerly. “Then Mr. Moulton does want you to help him?” she cried. “You did get on well with him?”

Mark grinned, with a boyishly sheepish look of satisfaction. “As to that, he was awfully nice and kind, in a gruff way that I liked—after I caught on to his methods. And I got so wound up over his specimens and the book plans that—well, I guess he saw I wasn’t faking it, for he thawed right out. He’s going to take me on as a—I don’t know what you would call it—amanuensis, or secretary, but, thank goodness, it’s more than that, because I’m to help with the work, if I know enough; not merely copy and put notes in order.”

Mary laughed delightedly, clasping her hands before her in an ecstatic little way that she had, as if she were congratulating herself on being glad.