“I should like to go, Mr. Henshaw, and I thank you for your kind words.”
“Don’t cost nothing,” returned the bluff foreman, as he started homeward.
Jack was too happy over his prospects to mind the baleful looks of Furniss the next day, or to hear the jibes of Fret Offut. Could he have foreseen the startling result he must have been bound with dismay.
The following Monday, when the day’s work was done and he was leaving the shop, Mr. Henshaw came along, and slapping him on the shoulder, said: “Let me congratulate you, my lad. It is just as I said; you are going to South America,--if you will.”
“It seems too good to be true, Mr. Henshaw.” “It’s the blessed truth and I know it I don’t blame you for feeling well over such an appointment, for it is something any of us might be glad of. But you deserve it.”
The appearance of Furniss checked Jack’s reply. He could see the other understood that he had lost. He had another proof of the fact before he got home from Fret Offut, who said:
“Feel mighty stuck up, don’t yer? But let me tell yer,’twon’t do any good.”
This was the first time he had spoken to Jack since he had begun work in the shops, and our hero made no reply.
The following day, as he was about to leave the shop at the close of his work, Jack was accosted by Furniss, who asked him to assist him a moment at the big hammer.
Jack started at once to his help, noticing that the building was completely deserted at the time, except for the second boss and himself; even Henshaw, who generally stayed until after the workmen had left, was gone.