“Subscription.”
“Oh!” said Ben, guessing and flushing.
“Understand, do you?” demanded the iron fisted, warm hearted foreman with a grim chuckle. “Testimonial—Watch—Open face—Solid gold—Get out.”
He gave Ben a shove and shook his fist playfully at him, and the boy went on his way laughing and feeling joyful.
Ben had to tell the story of the day’s experience all over again when he reached home. His mother said little, as between the lines she read the noble impulses that had actuated the good son of a good father in striving to do his duty and be of benefit to others. She kissed him fondly, however, and her eyes were moist and loving as after supper he started for the works with the basket of food she had prepared for Mr. Hardy.
Ben found the works closed down and his father overhauling some tools, ready to set at work when the foreman, who lived near by, returned from his supper. Mr. Hardy said that they would finish their work by about ten o’clock.
“Let me come up about nine o’clock and watch around, father, and go home with you,” suggested Ben.
“I am always glad of your company, my son,” said Mr. Hardy.
“All right, I’ll be here,” said Ben.
He did not go directly home. It was a pleasant evening, and Ben leisurely strolled about the downtown streets, taking in the sights of the liveliest hour of the day among the stores.