“Say--bully for you, that’s what I say!” almost shouted the factory foreman.
“If you start at eleven o’clock you’ll be ready when that gang arrives?”
“Ready, and time to spare. Say, but you’ve been thinking to some purpose.”
The foreman burst into a gay whistle as he reëntered the office. The tramp regarded him searchingly, and then looked at Ralph as if he half guessed that they were up to something. He was too indolent, however, to delve for the facts.
The lawyer did not put in an appearance, Ralph knew by the whistles just what trains were arriving at Derby. The 8 p. m. came and passed on its way. Then the 10:30. By five minutes of eleven Ralph decided that the lawyer must have missed connection in some way, for he did not arrive at the plant.
Just as the office clock struck eleven, Ralph arose from his chair and walked up in front of the tramp.
“Do you want to earn a few dollars?” he inquired.
“Sure, that’s me,” answered the man--“what doing?”
“Helping Mr. Bartlett here. It will be hot work, but he’ll do most of it, he tells me.”
“Oh, in the factory here.”