And Samuel walked home the rest of the way in silence, and thinking no more about the joys of music. CHAPTER VII On Monday morning Samuel found that Professor Stewart had returned, and he sat in the great man's study and waited until he had finished his breakfast. It was a big room, completely walled with crowded bookshelves; in the center was a big work-table covered with books and papers. Samuel had never dreamed that there were so many books in the world, and he gazed about him with awe, feeling that he had come to the sources of knowledge. That was Samuel's way. Both by nature and training, he had a profound respect for all authority. He believed in the majesty of the law--that was why it had shocked him so to be arrested. He thought of the church as a divine institution, whose ministers were appointed as shepherds of the people. And up here on the heights was this great College, a temple of learning; and this professor was one who had been selected by those in the seats of authority, and set apart as one of its priests. So Samuel was profoundly grateful for the attention which was given to him, and was prepared to pick up whatever crumbs of counsel might be dropped. “Ah, yes,” the professor said, wiping his glasses with a silk handkerchief. “Samuel--let me see--Samuel--” “Prescott, sir.” “Yes--Samuel Prescott. And how have you been?” “I've been very well, sir.” “I meant to leave a message for you, but I overlooked it. I had so many things to attend to in the rush of departure. I--er--I hope you didn't wait for me.” “I had nothing else to do, sir,” said Samuel. “The truth is,” continued the other, “I'm afraid I shan't be able to do for you what I thought I could.” Samuel's heart went down into his boots. “You see,” said the professor a trifle embarrassed, “my sister wanted a man to look after her place, but I found she had already engaged some one.” There was a pause. Samuel simply stared. “Of course, as the man is giving satisfaction--you see--it wouldn't do for her to send him away.” And Samuel continued to stare, dumb with terror and dismay. “I'm very sorry,” said the other--“no need to tell you that. But I don't know of any other place.” “But what am I to do?” burst out Samuel. “It's really too bad,” remarked the other. And again there was a silence. “Professor Stewart,” said Samuel in a low voice, “what is a man to do who is out of work and starving?” “God knows,” said the professor. And yet again there was silence. Samuel could have said that himself--he had the utmost faith in God. And after a while the professor himself seemed to realize that the reply was inadequate. “You see,” he went on, “there is a peculiar condition here in Lockmanville. There was an attempt to corner the glass industry, and that caused the building of too many factories, and so there is overproduction. And then, besides that, they've just invented a machine that blows as many bottles as a dozen men.”