Fifteen minutes gone! Where had fifteen minutes gone?
“Do you think, William,” asked Thomas Murphy, as Billy went back to him, “that, if the super never finds that key, there will be any Thomas Murphy any more a-keepin’ time at Prescott mill?”
“You know,” said Billy, “that Mr. Prescott is a friend to everybody. I think,” he added slowly, because he was trying to keep still and at the same time to be wise, “I think he would be—more of—a friend—to a man—than to a key.”
“His grandfather’s key?” said Tom solemnly.
“His grandfather’s key,” repeated Billy, backing toward the door, and stepping out.
Five minutes of four!
Looking over at the foundry, Billy saw a man with shaggy black hair who, with his right hand pressed close against his side, was stepping back into the foundry door!
Billy himself stepped quickly back.
“William,” said Thomas Murphy, “you seem to be unusually oneasy.”
“It’s a very warm day,” said Billy.