“I would like to know him,” said Mr. Davis. “I am glad to know you. Let me see, what is your name?”
“Hardy—Ben Hardy.”
“Do you work at the Saxton plant, too, Ben?”
“No, sir,” answered Ben, “but I spend a good deal of my spare time there. Father works there, you see, and I like machinery.”
“How did you come to bring the machine part to me?”
“I happened to be around, and there was no one else to send at the time. The reason it was delayed was that the engine at the works went wild.”
“Is that so? Tell me about it.”
Ben had not calculated on a casual remark leading to a particular explanation. Before he was aware of it he had pretty nearly recited the whole story of the belt mishap at the Saxton shop.
“They ought to do something pretty fine for you, those people,” suggested Mr. Davis. “I am certainly very much obliged to you for your share in getting this machine part to me. I suppose some day you will go to work at the Saxton plant?”
“I am making drafting a special study,” replied Ben, “and I would like to start in at the model desk in the pattern rooms after school is over.”