“What’re ye in here for, anyhow?” he growled.
“That is my business. I asked you a civil question, but you have not seen fit to answer it civilly, so I see that I shall have to inquire elsewhere.”
“Wait!” said the wiper, as the youth turned away. “You’re puttin’ on a heap of manners just because you can wear fine clothes and keep yer hands clean. I’m just as good as you be.”
“We will not argue about that at all, sir.”
“Mebbe you’ll have to dirty yer hands some time.”
To this the stranger made no retort, but, as he started away, the wiper said:
“Hold on. Stay here, an’ I’ll find the foreman.”
“All right.”
Then the man lounged away, growling to himself. He was gone nearly fifteen minutes, and when he returned he was accompanied by four or five other wipers, all looking just as dirty and greasy as he did.
The well-dressed youth was standing by the engine, his eyes taking in everything that was going on in the building.