"I think you will like my heart," he continued undismayed. "I've been doing them all morning. I dug up some priceless old Beaux Arts crayons. It will be nice when we get to the brain. It's awfully romantic, I find," and he gave Nancy a killing smile. She gazed at him placidly and then turned to Tom. "What time is it?" she asked.
"Nearly twelve."
At this point Edmund drove up, and with renewed palpitations the party proceeded to the Mill.
As they passed in through the gates Tom noticed with sickening dread a huge sign in flaming letters, "ARE YOU PHYSICALLY FIT? Mr. Reynolds of Woodbridge Will Address You——" They were met by Bob Whitman, a hearty young man who had just been made an officer of the Company. He stared at Leofwin in amused bewilderment.
"Mr. Balch is helping me with the diagrams," explained Nancy. "And now where do we go?"
"Well, you'd better just sit here for a minute or two until they get settled with their lunches. I'll take you to where you go; and what's more, Nancy, I'll introduce you!" Nancy received the word "introduce" as a surgical case receives the initial injection of morphine. The first step had been taken, and nothing could save her. "As for you, Tom, your lecture room's over there, and I'll get the foreman to introduce you."
"Don't think of it," said Tom quickly, "I'll just introduce myself; get to be one of them, you know what I mean. Just one of the boys."
"Well, Miss Whitman, let's you and I get to be just one of the girls," tittered Leofwin.
"I think we might as well go in," said Nancy without noticing Leofwin's jest, which appeared singularly hollow.
"You're sure you don't want some one to start you off, Tom?" asked Bob.