“Very well,” she smiled. “I think I have a gown that will answer.”
Whatever misgivings she may have experienced in the meantime, they were not apparent on her face when she came out to meet the two men bright and early that Saturday morning.
“That’s the stuff!” said Lambert, looking approvingly at her natty costume of waterproof. “That’s just the thing.”
“Yes; I think this will defy even a coalmine,” she answered, laughing. “It has withstood a good many mountain storms, I know.”
“Well, if you’re ready we are,” said Lambert, and set off along the railroad track that led to the big tipple.
“And you’re going to tell me everything about it?” she asked.
“Of course; that’s what I’m for. Mr. Bayliss maybe’ll help me a little if I get hoarse,” he added slyly.
“Not I!” cried that gentleman. “In the science of coal-mining I am still in the infant class. I’ll let you do the talking, Mr. Lambert, and will be very glad to listen myself.”
Lambert strode on, chuckling to himself. He was certainly qualified, if any one was, to tell her “everything.” He had made the mine a study and life-work, and regarded it with pride and affection. Every foot of its many passages was as familiar to him as those of his own home. The men knew that with him in charge the mine was as safe as skill and care could make it; in hours of trouble, which were certain to come at times, his clear eyes and cheery voice, his quick wit and indomitable will, were mighty rocks of refuge to cling to and lean against until the storm was past. As he walked along beside them this bright morning, alert, head erect, his two companions glanced admiringly at him more than once, knowing him for a man who did things worth doing.
“Well,” he said at last, as they reached the great wooden structure stretching above the track, “here we are at the tipple, and we might as well begin here, though it’s sort of beginning at the wrong end. Let’s go up to the top first, though,” and he led the way up a steep little stair. “Now, Miss Bessie, we have come to the first lesson in the book. The coal is let down from the mine on that inclined railway to this big building, which is built out over the railroad track so the coal can be dumped right into the cars without any extra handling. The coal, as it comes down, is in all sizes, called ‘run of mine’—big lumps and little, and a lot of dirt. So it is dumped out here on this screen,—the bars are an inch and a half apart, you see,—and all the coal that passes over it to that bin yonder is called ‘lump.’ The coal that goes through falls on that other screen down there, with bars three quarters of an inch apart, and all that passes over it is called ‘nut.’ All that falls through is called ‘slack,’ and is hauled away to those big piles you see all around here. Understand all that?”