"Yards. Up here in West Albany it's nothing but yards and railroading."
"Ah," nodded Fairfax, and to himself: "This is the capital of New York State—Albany—that's where I am."
And it was not far enough away to please him.
The man's breakfast, which had been fed into him by his knife, was disposed of, and he went on—
"Good steady employment; they're decent to you. Have to be, good men are scarce."
A tall, well-set-up engineer came to the coffee counter, and Fairfax's companion called out to him—
"Got your new fireman yet, Joe?"
And the other, with a cheerful string of oaths, responded that he had not got him, and that he didn't want anybody, either, who wasn't going to stay more than five minutes in his cab.
"They've got a sign out at the yards," he finished, "advertising for hands, and when I run in at noon I'll call up and see what's doing."
Fairfax digested his meal and watched the entrance and exit of the railroad hands. Nearly all took their breakfast standing at the counter jollying the girl; only a few brakemen and conductors gave themselves the luxury of sitting down at the table. Antony went and paid what he owed at the counter, and found that the waitress had waked up, and, in spite of the fact that she had doled out coffee and food to some fifty customers, she had found time to glance at "the new one."