"Excuse me, sir," he said courteously, "but I was told to give you this."
Ralph extended the card given to him the evening previous by the master mechanic.
The foreman took it with a jerk, and read it with a frown. Ralph was somewhat astonished as he traced the effect upon him of the simple note, requesting, as he knew, that a place be made for him in the roundhouse.
The innocent little screed put the foreman in a violent ferment. His face grew angry and red, his throat throbbed, and his heavy jaw knotted up in a pugnacious way. He turned and glared with positive dislike and suspicion at Ralph, and the latter, quick to read faces, wondered why.
Then the foreman re-read the card, as if to gain time to get control of himself, and was so long silent that Ralph finally asked:
"Is it all right, sir?"
"Yes, it is!" snapped the foreman, turning on him like a mad bull. "I suppose Blake knows his business; I've been sent all the pikers on the line. Probably know what kind of material I want myself, though. Come again to-morrow."
"Ready for work?" asked Ralph, pressing his point.
"Yes," came the surly reply.
"What time, if you please, sir?"