"Rush's going to get his," mumbled the telephone operator, coming to life for the moment. "I shouldn't care to be in his shoes just at present."
"Sit down, Rush. I will confess that I am rather surprised at the remark that I just overheard you make."
Mr. Keating was a man well past middle age. His hair was gray, his bristling mustache of the same shade, gray, twinkling eyes adding greatly to the general effect of the face. But it was the square-set jaw and the firm set of the lips that revealed the iron in the make up of the superintendent. All this Steve Rush saw at a glance and understood.
"Perhaps I should not have been quite so outspoken," admitted the lad. "That is a fault of mine."
"That is not always a fault. Most honest men are outspoken, my lad. But to return to the subject of our discussion. I was in hopes you would like the place we have given you. It is an important position and difficult to fill. On the other hand, you have shown remarkable aptitude for the work. You have done better in it than any other man we ever had."
"Thank you, sir."
"All the more reason why I wish you would stay. You are not thinking of leaving the employ of the company, are you?"
"No, sir."
"Then what is the matter?"