"Surely … surely! I see … I see!" Allison emphasized his comprehension. "Not that it was anything of vital importance. I just wanted a short conference with you, yourself, that was all. Elliott's own reports on the work are so tinged with his eternal optimism, so colored by what you aptly termed his romantic zest for the game, that I wanted your own opinion concerning the possibility of the East Coast Company finishing that railroad in time to fulfil their contracts. No hurry about it; but that's my house over yonder. You were just one place too far north to find me."
He turned to face Caleb. There was a flood of questions upon the latter's lips. Caleb wanted to seize the boy by the shoulder, and spin him around toward the light and stare and stare into his face; but he waited because he found much that was hugely diverting in Dexter's bland ignorance, which had even accepted Steve's presence there as a case of misdirection.
"I suppose you know what this early morning call presages, Cal?" Allison challenged.
Before Caleb could reply Steve knew what the answer was to be. The request found him already at the door, grinning broadly.
"Would you—would you mind finding Miss Sarah, Steve?" Caleb asked. "Will you tell her, please, that we are to be subjected to another—neighborly imposition!"
Steve's going left Allison frowning a little.
"We've played this farce through a hundred times, Cal," he murmured, "and it wasn't according to formula—that last remark of yours. But, do you know, just for a minute it sort of reminded me of something—something that seems to have happened before, and I can't recall just what."
He shook his head and led the way to a chair.
"It wasn't our nonsense that affected me, either," he finished. "I believe it was O'Mara himself who … but I didn't know that you were acquainted with him, Cal. Have you known him long?"
"Um-m-m—yes!" Caleb weighed his reply. "Quite some time, I think I might say."