“Outfit, one hundred and six dollars and fifty-five cents; carfare and Pullman, sixty-seven dollars; total, one hundred and seventy-three dollars and fifty-five cents. Better make it two hundred dollars.”
Mr. Osborne’s only reply was to jerk his thumb in the direction of the general offices.
“Mr. Atkinson wants to see you,” the skilled machinist remarked, and turned again to his work. But, as Roy disappeared in the direction of the president’s office, Mr. Osborne seemed to change his mind. With some instructions to the experts working under him, he also made his way toward the offices.
“Father says you want to see me,” began Roy, after his, “Good morning.”
“Didn’t you want to see me?” retorted Mr. Atkinson.
“I certainly did, if father hadn’t told you,” replied Roy.
“I have,” said a voice behind the boy, and Mr. Osborne came forward, wiping his grimy face, which had a troubled look. “I told Mr. Atkinson just what you and your mother have decided.”
“Pshaw, George,” interrupted Mr. Atkinson, indicating a couple of chairs into which the engineer and Roy seated themselves. “I guess you are willing, aren’t you?” Then he turned to Roy. “Your father said it was all settled and I was glad of it. I think it’s a fine chance for you, Roy.”
“I’m going,” said Roy. “Father said so, didn’t he?”
“I did,” broke in Mr. Osborne. “But look here, Atkinson, where’s the ‘fine chance’ you’re talking about? I reckon these folks ain’t givin’ money away. It ain’t likely they’ll want to pay more than two hundred dollars a month. And what if Roy goes all the way out there and works five or six weeks? That might be three hundred dollars. He’s just told me it’s goin’ to cost him nearly two hundred dollars to get ready. Ain’t that a pretty small margin for a youngster to risk his life on?”