“Pail, sir,” said Billy, his eyes growing bright, until he smiled so hard that he forgot all about his troubles.
Somehow Uncle John seemed to understand a great many things. Even if it was only the risk that a boy took in carrying a bottle of hot soup, it made Billy feel comfortable to have him understand.
“Now,” said Uncle John, “we’ll go out back of the mill, and have a good talk. Been doing anything this morning, Billy?”
Then Billy told him about the errands that he had done for Aunt Mary and about his hoeing the two rows of potatoes out by the fence.
“Well done, Billy,” said Uncle John. “Here’s a bench waiting for us. Had your own dinner?”
Billy nodded. Then he said, “Uncle John, do you like to work in the foundry?”
“As to that,” answered Uncle John, taking a sandwich from the pail, “I do. It’s hard work, and it doesn’t make a man rich; but there’s something about making things that keeps a man interested. It takes a pretty good eye and a steady hand to make the molds come out just right. They have to be right, you see; for, if they weren’t, things wouldn’t fit together. I like to think that I’m helping things in the world to go right.
“Just why are you asking me that? Can it be that you’re thinking of being a man, Billy?
“Something’s going to happen to-morrow,” he continued, looking very wise. “I’ve been thinking we’d better celebrate.”
“Celebrate!” exclaimed Billy.