It looked, for a moment, as if the wavering, straggling men would break ranks and run; but a sudden distant whistle, and a sharp command from Reddy brought them right about face.
"Buck up, boys," he ordered sharply. "I reckon the little mistress ain't a-goin' ter turn us down! She'll like it. You'll see!"
The train had scarcely come to a stop before Genevieve was off the car steps.
"Mr. Tim, Mr. Tim—here I am! Oh, how good you look!" she cried, holding out both her hands. A minute later she turned to introduce the embarrassed foreman to Mrs. Kennedy and the girls, who, with her father, were following close at her heels. This task was not half completed, however, when she spied the red-faced, anxious-eyed men.
As Mr. Tim had done, she stared dumbly for a moment; then, leaving the rest of the introductions to her father, she ran toward them.
"Why, it's the boys—our boys! Carlos, Long John, Reddy! But what is the matter? How queer you look! Is anybody sick—or—dead?" she stammered, plainly in doubt what to say.
"Sure, it's for you—we're a-welcomin' you," exploded Long John, jerking at his collar which was obviously too small for him.
Genevieve's face showed a puzzled frown.
"But these clothes!—why are you like this?—and after all I've promised the girls about you, too!"
"You mean—you don't like it—this?" demanded Reddy, incredulous hope in his eyes and voice.