“And bears no malice?” I said.
“Malice! Not a bit. He’s one of our most trusty men.”
“Don’t say that, Bob,” said Uncle Jack. “We haven’t a man who wouldn’t fight for us to the end.”
“Not one,” said Uncle Dick. “You worked wonders with them, Cob, when you were here.”
“Let’s see, uncles,” I said; “I’ve been away eight years.”
“Yes,” they said.
“Well, I haven’t learned yet what it is not to be modest, and I hope I never shall.”
“What do you mean?” said Uncle Dick.
“What do I mean!” I said. “Why, what did I do but what you three dear old fellows taught me? Eh?”
There was a silence in the office for a few minutes. No; only a pause as to words, for wheels were turning, blades shrieking, water splashing, huge hammers thudding, and there was the hiss and whirr of steam-sped machines, added since I went away, for “Russell’s,” as the men called our works, was fast becoming one of the most prosperous of the small businesses in our town.