e-book
and pencil ready poised for action, waited for Elijah. He began rather
slowly and awkwardly. He was unaccustomed to dictation, and besides he
was conscious of Helen Lonsdale's beauty; but more and more rapidly he
went on, as he forgot all else in the absorbing interest of his subject.
He sorted paper from paper, went from point to point, clearly and
logically, down to the last figure that Winston had given him. He hardly
noted the flying fingers and moving hand that drew lines, and hooks, and
dots, and dashes with the graceful ease and regularity of an inanimate
machine. At length he paused, folding his papers.

Helen threw down her pencil and straightened her cramped fingers.

"Well!" she exclaimed. "You have given me the time of my life! I was on
the point of calling you off once or twice; but I didn't. I'll read it
over to you now and see if I have made any mistakes."

Elijah's face was eager, partly from Helen's indirect praise, but more
from the enthusiasm of his subject.

"Aren't you tired?" he asked.

"Tired!" she repeated. "This doesn't make me tired. It's more fun than a
toboggan slide. It's these everlasting drones who make me tired. Fellows
who haven't anything to say and who don't know how to get at it." She
took her note-book and began reading rapidly. Elijah listened, watching
her through his narrowed eyes. She laid her note-book down.

"How is it?"

"Perfect. You've got everything."

"That's a great piece of work you've got blocked out." Helen's voice was
approving.

"The work is not mine."

"No?" Helen's eyes were opened wide.

"No." Elijah's face drooped in reverent lines. "It has been given me to
do."

"A-a-h!" Helen dared to commit herself no farther. She could not trust
her eyes even. Her lids veiled them and her face assumed a look of
non-committal interest. Elijah was a new species. She had no pigeonhole,
even in the wide experience of her limited years, ready made into which
she could thrust him.

Elijah felt impelled to go farther. He wanted to look again into the
great, black eyes. He steered boldly into a sea where many a time before
no less confident mariners had as boldly entered and had come to grief.

He told of his coming to California, of his life after reaching his
goal, and how, little by little, the great work he was engaged upon had
been revealed to him. He did not speak freely at first, only when he saw
recognition and appreciation in Helen's face. If she was