"What she wants, I want," said Rivett.... "And I might have been easier on Edgerton, Tennant & Co.... I would have been—if we hadn't needed the plant."
Dineen nodded gravely.
"Sure! A poor corporal of industry like you, Jake, needs what he can pick up out o' the ash can."
For a full minute neither spoke. A slight flush faded from Rivett's cheek bones.
"You damned Irishman," he said, wincing, "when are you going back?"
"To-night, I think.... There's an ash can I haven't raked over—the Carrol-Baker Company."
"You'd better fix that," said Rivett dryly; "there may be a lump of slag or two we can use for filling in ballast."
Dineen winked, rose, deposited the ashes from his cigar on the window ledge, and sauntered forth—to meet Jack walking swiftly and firmly toward his father's study.
"Hello, young man!" exclaimed Dineen, "is the house afire, or has the brown jug below run dry?"
"No fear," said the young man, smiling, but continuing on his way. Dineen looked after him with shrewd, blue eyes.