Bart experienced a thrill of pleasure at the homely compliment. He tried to get back to business, but he found himself considerably flustered.
All the morning his hopes and plans had drifted in one definite direction—to get some assurance of permanent employment for the future.
The only work he had ever done was here at the express office for his father. It was a daring prospect to imagine that he, a mere boy, would be allowed to succeed to a grown man's position and salary—and yet Bart had placed himself in line for it with every prompting of diligence and duty.
Mr. Leslie and the freight agent spent half an hour at the ruins. Bart could see by their gestures that they were animatedly discussing the situation, and they seemed to be closely looking over the ground with a view to locating a site for a new express shed.
Finally they shook hands in parting. The express superintendent consulted his watch, and turned his face in the direction of Bart.
As he neared the "new" express shed, however, he passed around to its rear, and glancing out of a window there Bart saw that he had come to a halt, and was drawing a diagram of the tracks on a blank page in his memorandum book.
Just as Mr. Leslie had returned this to his pocket and was about to start from the spot, a man hailed him. It was Lem Wacker. He was dressed in his best, but the effort was spoiled by an uncertainty of gait, and his face was suspiciously flushed.
"Did you address me?" inquired the superintendent in a chilling tone.
Lem was not daunted by the imposing presence or the dignified demeanor of the speaker.
"Sure," he answered, unabashed. "You're Leslie, ain't you?"