“Good-by, Mr. Starr,” replied the overman, “let me add, till we meet again!”
“Yes, till we meet again. Ford!” answered James Starr. “You know that I shall be always glad to see you, and talk over old times.”
“I know that, Mr. Starr.”
“My house in Edinburgh is always open to you.”
“It’s a long way off, is Edinburgh!” answered the man shaking his head. “Ay, a long way from the Dochart pit.”
“A long way, Simon? Where do you mean to live?”
“Even here, Mr. Starr! We’re not going to leave the mine, our good old nurse, just because her milk is dried up! My wife, my boy, and myself, we mean to remain faithful to her!”
“Good-by then, Simon,” replied the engineer, whose voice, in spite of himself, betrayed some emotion.
“No, I tell you, it’s till we meet again, Mr. Starr, and not Just ‘good-by,’” returned the foreman. “Mark my words, Aberfoyle will see you again!”
The engineer did not try to dispel the man’s illusion. He patted Harry’s head, again wrung the father’s hand, and left the mine.