“Next to that,” answered Billy, “I’d rather go into the foundry to see Uncle John work.”
“Well!” exclaimed Mr. Prescott, whirling around in his chair. “That’s about the last thing that I should have thought of, especially on such a hot day. May I inquire whether you are interested in iron?”
Billy, with a quick flash of spirit, answered promptly, “I am, sir.”
As promptly Mr. Prescott said, “I’m glad to hear it, William. You may spend the rest of the afternoon in the foundry.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Billy, very much surprised. Then he looked at Miss King, and she nodded and smiled.
Billy ran down the corridor, passing Mr. Murphy with a flying salute, and hurried across the yard to the foundry door.
Just then he remembered that he hadn’t a permit; but the foreman appeared in the door saying, “The super has telephoned over that you’re to visit us this afternoon.”
Pointing across the room, he added, “Your uncle is over there.”
Billy wanted to surprise his Uncle John, so he went carefully along the outer side of the long, low room, past pile after pile of gray black sand, until he came to the place where Uncle John was bending over what seemed to be a long bar of sand.
“Uncle John,” he said softly.