Two trucks roared into the place and up to Adriance's post. When he had finished with them and sent them on to Cook's end of the room, he turned back to Mr. Goodwin; but that gentleman, satisfied as to the improved conditions, was already stepping into the elevator to return to his own offices above.
"Seventy-three, the old top is," remarked Cook, running over to pass his fellow-worker a mass of memoranda. "Keen as ever, but not up-to-date, that is all. Here—these to the dock, these to the Erie yards; this straight to the decorator on Fifth Avenue, who is waiting for it—it's a special design landscape-paper for a club grill-room on Long Island. Rush the one to the steamer—Long Island and Buffalo can wait."
"You were mighty good to help me that way," said Adriance. He took the slip, regarding the little man with a glance in which many thoughts met. He smiled at one of these, and his face became warmly kind for an instant and rather startled Cook.
"You helped me out of a scrape by volunteering this morning," Cook answered, a trifle abruptly. "I only asked him to come see how things were going. You are to keep on here?"
"Yes, for the present."
"Glad of it! Ever do this kind of work before?"
"Handling trucks?"
"No; handling men."
Adriance considered.
"Only on a yacht, I think."