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.
“Peters,” said the young man, “this is Samuel Prescott. I had some trouble with my horse and he helped me. He hasn't had anything to eat today, and I want him to have a good meal.”
“Yes, sir,” said the man. “Where shall I serve it, sir?”
“In the morning room. We'll wait there. And mind you, bring him a plenty.”
“Yes, sir,” said Peters, and went off.
Meantime Samuel had time for a glance about him. Never had he heard or dreamed of such magnificence. It was appalling, beyond belief! The great entrance hall went up to the roof; and there was a broad staircase of white marble, with galleries of marble, and below a marble fireplace, big enough to hold a section of a tree. Beyond this was a court with fountains splashing, and visions of palms and gorgeous flowers; and on each side were vistas of rooms with pictures and tapestries and furniture which Samuel thought must be of solid gold.
“Come,” said his companion, and they ascended the staircase.
Halfway up, however, Samuel stopped and caught his breath. Before him there was a painting. There is no need to describe it in detail—suffice it to say that it was a life-size painting of a woman, entirely naked; and that Samuel had never seen such a thing in his life before. He dropped his eyes as he came near to it.
They went along the gallery and entered a room, dazzlingly beautiful and bright. It was all done in white satin, the front being of glass, and opening upon a wide balcony. There were flowers and singing birds, and in the panels most beautiful paintings, representing wood nymphs dancing. These airy creatures, also, were innocent of anything save filmy veils; but they were all about the room, and so poor Samuel had no way to escape them. He sought for light within his mind; and suddenly he recollected the illustrated Bible at home. Perhaps the peerless beings who lived in such palaces had returned to a state of guiltlessness, such as had existed before the serpent came.
Young Lockman flung himself into an easy chair and proceeded to cross-question his companion. He wanted to know all about the interview with “Old Stew”; and afterwards, having managed to divine Samuel's attitude to himself, he led him to talk about that, which Samuel did with the utmost frankness. “Gee, but you're a queer duffer!” was Lockman's comment; but Samuel didn't mind that.
The butler came with the meal—carrying it on a big tray, and with another man to carry a folding table, and yet another to help. Such a display of silver and cut glass! Such snowy linen, and such unimaginable viands! There were piles of sandwiches, each one half a bite for a fairly hungry man. There was jellied game, and caviar, and a pate of something strange and spicy. Nothing was what one would have expected—there were eggs inside of baked potatoes, and ice cream in some sort of crispy cake. The crackers looked like cakes, and the cakes like crackers, and the cheese was green and discouraging. But a bowl of strawberries and cream held out a rich promise at the end, and Samuel took heart.
“Fall to,” said the host; and then divining the other's state of mind, he remarked, “You needn't serve, Peters,” and the men went away, to Samuel's vast relief.
“Don't mind me,” added Lockman laughing. “And if there's any question you want to ask, all right.”
So Samuel tasted the food of the gods; a kind of food which human skill and ingenuity had labored for centuries to invent, and for days and even weeks to prepare. Samuel wondered vaguely where all these foods had come from, and how many people had had a hand in their preparation; also he wondered if all those who ate them would become as beautiful and as dazzling as his young friend.
The friend meanwhile was vastly diverted, and was bent upon making the most of his find. “I suppose you'd like to see the place?” he said.
“I should, indeed,” said Samuel.
“Come and I'll show it to you—that is, If you're able to walk after the meal.”
The meal did not trouble Samuel, and they went out and took a stroll. And so the boy met with yet another revelation of the possibilities of existence.
If there was anything in the world he would have supposed he understood, it was farming; but here at “Fairview” was farming as it was done by the methods of Science. At home they had had some lilac bushes and a row of peonies; here were acres of greeneries, filled with flowers of gorgeous and unimaginable splendor, and rare plants from every part of the world. At home it had been Samuel's lot to milk the cow, and he had found it a trying job on cold and dark winter mornings; and here was a model dairy, with steam heat and electric light, and tiled walls and nickel plumbing, and cows with pedigrees in frames, and attendants with white uniforms and rubber gloves. Then there was a row of henhouses, each for a fancy breed of fowl—some of them red and lean as herons, and others white as snow and as fat and ungainly as hogs. And then out in front, at one corner of the lawn, was the aviary, with houses for the peacocks and lyre birds, and for parrots and magpies and innumerable strange birds from the tropics. Also there were dog kennels with many dozens of strange breeds.
“Father got those for me,” said young Lockman. “He thought I'd be interested in agriculture.”
“Well, aren't you?” asked Samuel.
“Not very much,” said the other carelessly. “Here's Punch—what do you think of him?”
The occasion for this was a dog, the most hideously ugly object that Samuel had ever seen in his life. “I—I don't think I'd care for him,” he said hesitatingly.
“He's a Japanese bulldog,” observed the other. “He cost three thousand dollars.”
“Three thousand dollars!” gasped the boy in horror. “Why should anyone pay so much for a dog?”
“That's what he's worth,” said the other with a laugh.
They went to see the horses, which were housed in a palace of their own. There were innumerable rows of stalls, and a running track and endless acres of inclosures. “Why do you have so many horses?” asked Samuel.
“Father ran a stock farm,” said the other. “I don't have much time to give to it myself.”
“But who rides the horses?” asked Samuel.
“Well, I go in for sport,” replied Lockman. “I'm supposed to be quite a dab at polo.”
“I see,” said the boy—though to tell the truth he did not see at all, not having the least idea what polo was.
“If you're interested in horses, I'll have them find you something to do here,” Lockman went on.
“Oh, thank you,” said the boy with a thrill. “That will be fine!”
He could have spent all day in gazing at the marvels of this place, but his host was tired now and started back to the house. “It's lunch time,” he said. “Perhaps you are hungry again!”
They came out upon the piazza and sat down. And then suddenly they heard a clatter of hoofs and looked up. “Hello!” exclaimed the host. “Here's Glad!”
A horse was coming up the road at a lively pace. The rider was seated a-straddle, and so Samuel was slow to realize that it was a woman. It was only when he saw her wave ............