“And distribute it,” said Whalen. “A seat for pupils would be a good idea.”
Tom said nothing. This was the sort of remark he did not like.
That very first evening, after about the pleasantest and most interesting day’s work that Tom had ever done, something occurred which to him was nothing less than a minor tragedy.
Mr. Royce Fairgreaves was called to other duties and thenceforth bestowed his pervasive personality and expansive smile elsewhere. Tom saw much of him thereafter, encountering him at various labors, usually in his derby and cutaway save when the heat forbade.
“I am called to a wider field of usefulness,” Mr. Fairgreaves explained, which turned out to be picking stones for the reservoir which he did with all the grace and dignity that were his. He picked stones as if Shakespeare instead of Ferris had planned the work for him....
CHAPTER XIX
TOM AND NED
As the days passed a picturesque, rustic structure arose above the rough bridge and closed it in. No taint of bare or trimmed wood was there about it, the little dim resting-place being devised entirely of timber clothed in its natural bark.
And as this work progressed Tom and his companion became close friends. Whalen had seen fighting in France and had a wound on his shoulder to show for it. Tom had also been “over there” and they found much to talk of while they worked and especially in their stroll to and from the hotel at luncheon time.
Tom always ate his luncheon with the men. He enjoyed this, and it left his conscience clear in the matter of dining with Ferris and Audry in the cottage each night. One and all, the workers took his affiliation with the “executive mansion” kindly enough. They seemed not to think it strange that he should make his headquarters there.