"Coming back in the morning?"
"I don't know."
Gid snapped his fingers and forgot himself so far again as to scowl.
"Well, you're cross to-night; I'll say that for you, Larry," he declared, bluntly, and then turned back into the boiler-room and shut the door.
"There is something wrong, and no mistake about it," was Larry's conviction as he hurried home.
He was not too deeply worried to eat—a healthy boy seldom is. His mother was more cheerful than she had been at dinner-time; or, at least, she made an effort to appear so.
"Has everything gone well to-day, Larry?" she asked, as he rose from the table.
"As well as I could expect. There are one or two annoying fellows at the works, and they're envious because the super lets me run the big engine. They think I'm too young."
"It is a responsible position, Larry, and it makes me proud of you to feel that you fill it so well."
"It isn't hard to do; only I have to keep my wits about me. It wouldn't do to forget anything; and you know they say a boy will forget."