"Mr. Robertson, my chief," Lister said to Barbara, and the man presented Lister to his companion, and put a machine in a box on the floor. "Now there's room; I was pulling out the indicator diagrams," he added. "Won't you take off your coat, Miss Hyslop, and try Mike's doughnuts?"
The little room was hot, and when Barbara hung up her furs she noted the other girl's appraising glance. Miss Grant poured some black tea from a big cracked pot and pushed across a tin of condensed milk and a plate of greasy buns. When Barbara picked one up and looked at it doubtfully Robertson opened a drawer.
"We pull ours in two, but I expect you'd like a knife," he said.
He found a knife, which he rubbed on the table-cloth. "I used the thing on the indicator, the contraption in the box, but I think it's clean enough."
Barbara ate her doughnut and drank the bitter tea. Miss Grant looked friendly and she liked the engineer. They were frank, human people, and she thought them kind. Robertson began to talk about carpets, gas-stoves and pans, and Miss Grant told Barbara what the articles cost. They had been buying furniture and Robertson stated they were to be married soon.
"I reckon you haven't got so far yet," he said to Lister, and when Barbara saw Miss Grant touch him she blushed. It was ridiculous, but the blood came to her skin, and then, noting Lister's embarrassment, she began to laugh.
"Jim will talk like that!" Miss Grant remarked.
"Oh, well," said Robertson, "I expect it's rather soon. Mr. Lister hasn't joined us long, and you don't begin at the top." He turned to Barbara with an encouraging smile. "All the same, he knows his job and has got one move up. Perhaps if he sticks to it, for a year or two—"
Miss Grant stopped him and asked Barbara's views about curtains. She had some patterns, and while they contrasted the material and the prices the door opened and a greasy, red-haired fellow gave the group a benevolent grin.
"Was thim doughnuts all right?" he inquired.