"By the way," Ernest went on, "I went into town while you were gone to get the mail. There was just one letter. It was from Elsa. She's on her way down here. She's due on Sunday."
Roger looked from Dick to Ernest. "What the devil shall we do with her?"
"Well, she'll have to outfit and grubstake herself. She knows that, and she knows we're broke. I think this is a cooked up job of hers and mother's just to help us out. And gee!—but I'll be glad to see old Elschen!"
"So'll I, old man. But Ernest, this is no place nor circumstances for an Old Home week. I'm sweating to finish this plant against almost impossible odds."
"Don't I know it? Have I failed you any?"
"You have been absolutely O. K. and we'll try to give Elsa a good time."
"It will be a perfect godsend to Charley," said Dick. "She almost cried when Gustav told us."
"Then that's settled," said Ernest with a sigh.
"Just as soon as it can be managed, we'll have to give Von Minden a decent burial, Roger," said Dick. "I won't be using the horses to-morrow and you'll be in good trim by then, won't you, Rog?"
"Yes," replied Roger, and if he smothered a sigh for another day lost from his work, no one noticed it.