“Dinner-toting?”
“Yes, suh.”
“Indoor sports of all nations! And what is dinner-toting?”
“Why, suh, why—dinner-totin’, that’s jes’, well—” she strove for simplification in the face of this amazing ignorance—“hit’s jes’ plain dinner-totin’, that’s all! Jes’ totin’ dinners!”
“Ah! Carrying dinners!”
“Yes, suh!” She beamed encouragement on the dullard. “Cy’arin’ er totin’—hit’s pintly th’ same!”
Glen Darrow stepped suddenly forward.
“Good morning! How do you do?” The stranger spoke quickly, regarding her with keen interest. “Are you connected with the mill?”
“Yes,” she answered eagerly. “I’m the superintendent’s secretary.”
“Well, now, that’s awfully nice for the superintendent!” he remarked cordially. “I suppose it’s all right for me to wander about a bit and look things over. Want to get an idea—study conditions—all that sort of thing, you know——”