"I have often thought I should like to ride on an engine," Gertrude said.
"I wish I had known it earlier in the day; your wish might have been gratified very easily."
"Might it? I suppose they never let any one ride on the night engines, do they?"
Brockway caught his breath. "Do you mean—would you trust me to take you on the engine to-night?" he asked, wondering if he had heard aright.
"Why not?" she said, with sweet gravity.
The engineer had oiled his way around to their side, and Brockway spoke to him.
"Good-evening, Mac," he said; and the man turned and held up his torch.
"Hello, Fred," he began; and then, seeing Gertrude: "Excuse me, I didn't see the lady."
At a sign from Gertrude, Brockway introduced the engineer. "Miss Vennor, this is Mr. Maclure—one of our oldest runners."
"I'm very glad to know you, Mr. Maclure," said Gertrude, sweetly; and the man of machinery scraped his feet and salaamed.