In all the years Ernest had known his chum, he never had heard him express such enthusiasm as this, over his own work. Ernest's eyes were still staring, his mouth still open.
"I believe you have, Rog! I believe you have! Lord, I wish I'd known this when I went East."
"No more sweating down to Hackett's for gasoline, eh?" exclaimed Dick.
Roger grinned. "Day before yesterday's sun is turning the wheels just now. Come on in to breakfast, folks. We can leave her to herself for a while."
Then, as Elsa and Dick followed Ernest up the trail, Roger lingered to wipe a gauge tenderly with a bit of waste. As he did so, he noticed that Charley was standing in the doorway, her eyes fastened wistfully on the whirring fly wheel. She looked very like Felicia in her blue denim blouse and skirt and once more that old confusion of personalities flashed over Roger.
"It's—it's like Felicia's own engine, somehow," said Charley. "She did love to help you so. I wish she knew."
"Charley, dear girl—we miss her so, don't we!" Roger half whispered.
Charley's lips quivered and Roger, hastily wiping his hands, took one of hers and carried it to his lips. "You are so like her!" he said. "So like her!"
Then, they turned slowly and joined the others at breakfast.