The young woman laughed at this. "And the boy--what do you suppose _he_
will think after his ride with Tom in the limousine?"

The Interpreter shook his head doubtfully. "Bobby will probably reserve
his judgment for a while, on the possible chance of another ride in
your car."

"Tell me about them," said Helen.

"Are you really interested?"

She flushed a little as she answered, "I am at least curious."

"Why?"

"Perhaps because of your interest in them," she retorted. "Who are
they?"

The Interpreter did not answer for a moment; then, with his dark eyes
fixed on the heavy cloud of smoke that hung above the Mill and
overshadowed the Flats, he said, slowly, "They are Sam Whaley's
children. Their father works--when he works--in your father's Mill. I
knew both Sam and his wife before they were married. She was a bright
girl, with fine instincts for the best things of life and a capacity
for great happiness. Sam was a good worker in those days, and their
marriage promised well. Then he became interested in the wrong sort of
what is called socialism, and began to associate with a certain element
that does not value homes and children very highly. The man is honest,
and fairly capable, up to a certain point; but there never was much
capacity there for clear thinking. He is one of those who always follow