"I needed the money. But I never thought I'd have to face a mess like this." And the new operator disgustedly waved an arm about the room.
The stranger was meditatively rubbing his pendulous chin.
"You don't like the work, eh?"
"It's good enough when you've got a decent station. But this room isn't fit for a pig to live in! Look at that box of a sleeping-berth! It's worse than a coffin! And I'm going to kick a board out of that cabin wall if they don't get a ventilator tube in here—it's like sleeping in a dough-box! And look at that bunged-up tuner! And that operating-table, that's never seen a coat of paint; and that switchboard—nothing but raw pine! Why, nine of the connecters in those Leyden jars turned out to be broken, after I'd struck this place at noon. I had to patch them up with all the washbowl chains from the first cabins as we came down the bay. I got on to that dodge aboard the Prinz Joachim."
"She's a real boat!" interpolated the stranger.
The young operator was wistfully nodding his head. "They carry a German band, and an ice machine, and free beer for the officers."
"But you can make this snug enough," the other soothed.
