“Mother will insist on sending something to you, I know,” prophesied Ben.
“Well, I won’t say that home cooking wouldn’t suit me best,” confessed Mr. Hardy.
Ben started from the shop, when Caleb Dunn hailed him with the words:
“Hold on there, young man.”
“All right,” responded Ben, smiling.
The foreman gained Ben’s side. He drew a shop-soiled sheet of paper from the pocket of his working blouse.
“Every man in the shop,” he announced.
“Every man what?” queried Ben.
“Name signed to the document.”
“What for?”