Jacob Simmons had received his first lesson at his new employment. Fred's ready way of imparting instruction did much to facilitate his progress. After the cloth had been placed on the machine and everything fixed for a long run, Fred left him to watch it and keep it in its proper place, while he went up to the other room to give attention to that portion of the business.
Once alone he had a chance to think, unhindered by the presence of any one.
"What does it all mean?" he said to himself. "Mr. Simmons actually turned pale when he saw me—seemed stunned for a minute. Yes, he even stepped back as if he were afraid of me. There must be some cause for this," he meditated, "and I do wonder what it is."
The idea clung to him. The more he thought upon it and studied the man, the more he became impressed that something was wrong—that Mr. Simmons for some reason dreaded meeting him. What this cause could be was the question to be solved.
Not many days after Jacob commenced work in the factory, Fred made a discovery that at once aroused his suspicions and turned his thoughts in quite another direction, for previously he had believed that Jacob's aversion to him was due to some personal matter; but now he had a clue that led to a different belief, and one that might clear up a great mystery which had not long since thrown its shadow over himself.
"Do you know Mr. Simmons yet?" asked Fred of Jack Hickey.
"Well, I spakes to him now an' thin. But why do ye ask, me b'y?"
"I want you to do me a favor."
"Sure an' I will do that inny time for ye."
"Thank you, Jack. I want you to borrow Mr. Simmons' knife and manage to keep it till I can see it, but don't breathe a word of this to him or anyone."