“Yes, sir.” And Bibbs returned to the zinc-eater thoughtfully.
Half an hour later, Gurney touched him on the shoulder and beckoned him outside, where conversation was possible. “I sent him home, Bibbs. He'll have to be careful of that hand. Go get your overalls off. I'll take you for a drive and leave you at home.”
“Can't,” said Bibbs. “Got to stick to my job till the whistle blows.”
“No, you don't,” the doctor returned, smothering a yawn. “He wants me to take you down to my office and give you an overhauling to see how much harm these four days on the machine have done you. I guess you folks have got that old man pretty thoroughly upset, between you, up at your house! But I don't need to go over you. I can see with my eyes half shut—”
“Yes,” Bibbs interrupted, “that's what they are.”
“I say I can see you're starting out, at least, in good shape. What's made the difference?”
“I like the machine,” said Bibbs. “I've made a friend of it. I serenade it and talk to it, and then it talks back to me.”
“Indeed, indeed? What does it say?”
“What I want to hear.”
“Well, well!” The doctor stretched himself and stamped his foot repeatedly. “Better come along and take a drive with me. You can take the time off that he allowed for the examination, and—”