Ralph felt as if the air was cleared of some violent poison at the departure of this miserable apology of a man.
"Faugh! I won't think of him," he soliloquized. "What possible happiness in life can such people have? I wonder which is the worst: Mort Bemis, poor and mean, or Gasper Farrington, rich and mean. Which carries out what mother has often said: 'Money is not everything.'"
Ralph dismissed his enemies from his mind, whistling cheerily at his tasks. He thought a good deal about Mrs. Davis. He was anxious to get through work and hurry home, to learn if she had called on his mother, and if she had imparted to Mrs. Fairbanks any explanation of her strange acquaintance with his dead father, and of her still more strange fear of Gasper Farrington.
From five until seven o'clock the tracks were kept pretty full. Ralph had a busy time of it. He got through without a delay or a mix-up, however. Jack Knight came up the ladder about eight o'clock.
He looked pleased at the collected, business-like way that Ralph handled things. He finally remarked:
"Met Blake a bit back, Fairbanks."
"The master mechanic--yes," nodded Ralph.
"Keep it under your hat, now," continued Knight significantly. "Blake was riled. He said he'd give half a month's salary to wallop one man in Stanley Junction, if it wasn't business policy to keep down personal feelings for the good of the service."
"Who was the man, Mr. Knight?"
"He didn't say, but no friend of yours, it seems. The gist of it is, that this man--I'd like a crack at him myself--offered Blake two hundred dollars to get you shifted onto some other section."