"I felt you!" interrupted Ned, with a short laugh. He told his own name, but that was all, and seemed about to pass on.
"Are there any locomotive shops around here?" asked Mr. Simpson.
"Locomotive shops?" queried Ned. "None that I know of. Why?"
"Well, I heard heavy machinery being used down there;" and he waved his hand toward Tom's shops, "and I thought—"
"Oh, you mean Shopton!" exclaimed Ned. "That's the Swift plant. No, they don't make locomotives, though they could if they wanted to, for they turn out airships, submarines, tunnel diggers, and I don't know what."
"Do they make munitions there—for the Allies?" asked Mr. Simpson, and there was an eager look on his face.
"No, I don't believe so," Ned answered; "though, in fact, I don't know enough of the place to be in a position to give you any information about it," he told the man, not deeming it wise to go into particulars.
Perhaps the man felt this, as he did not press for an answer.
The two stood looking at one another for some little time, and then the man, with a bow that had in it something of insolence, as well as politeness, turned and went down the path up which Ned had come.
The young bank clerk waited a little while, and then turned his attention to the tree which seemed to have suddenly assumed an importance altogether out of proportion to its size.