“I’m going back to town, and I’ll walk with you.”
So Will stopped at the house and sent Egbert to mind the fire, and then he tramped away to the village beside the burly form of his friend.
It was not as cold as it had been before it began to snow, and the boy enjoyed the walk. He liked to hear the soft crunching of the snow under his feet.
When he shyly entered the office at the steel works his face was as rosy as an apple, and he shook off the snow and wiped the moisture from his eyes and looked around him.
There were two long rows of desks in the main room, and at one corner, railed in to separate it from the others, was the secretary’s office and desk. Will could see the bald head of Mr. Jordan held as rigidly upright as ever, and recognized the two side locks of hair that were plastered firmly to his skull.
Then Mr. Jordan turned slowly around and saw him, and after calmly staring at the boy for a time he motioned to a clerk.
The young man approached Will and enquired his business.
“I want to see Mr. Williams,” he answered.
“Mr. Jordan transacts all the business here,” said the clerk, stiffly.
“It isn’t exactly business,” replied the boy, and drew out the letter he had received.