“No. It was Simpson. But I could not very well interfere,” said Mr. Travers.
“Why not? It wasn’t fair!” urged Tavia.
“I am sure Simpson knows best. Though I liked Tom,” said her father. “I cannot interfere between the foreman and the men. If I did I’d soon have neither overseers nor workmen, but a strike on my hands,” and he laughed.
“I think it is too bad, sir,” said Dorothy, gravely. “Really, it was not his fault at all that we were run away with.”
“He left you alone with the beasts,” Ned declared.
“He was called by those other men to help,” Tavia retorted.
“Well, he’s gone, I fear,” said Mr. Travers, shaking his head.
“Not out of town, father?”
“I reckon so. Tom comes and goes. He is a good man, although he’s young; but he’s unsettled. Lots of these workmen are. They go from place to place. He is fit to take charge himself, I believe, of a steel construction gang; but, as the boys say, ‘something got his goat.’ He doesn’t work at his trade any more. It is a dangerous trade, and he probably had an accident——”
“Steel construction—bridge building, do you mean, sir?” asked Dorothy, suddenly.