went on more cheerily and lustily. So work kept astir like play.
An hour before sunset, Bill Tarbox stepped into Wade’s office. Even oily and begrimed, Bill could be recognized as a favored lover. He looked more a man than ever before.
“I forgot to mention,” says the foreman, “that Cap’n Ambuster was in, this morning, to see you. He says, that, if the river’s clear enough for him to get away from our dock, he’ll go down to the City to-morrow, and offers to take freight cheap. We might put that new walking-beam, we’ve just rough-finished for the ‘Union,’ aboard of him.”
“Yes, — if he is sure to go to-morrow. It will not do to delay. The owners complained to me yesterday that the ‘Union’ was in a bad way for want of its new machinery. Tell your brother-in-law to come here, Bill.”
Tarbox looked sheepishly pleased, and summoned Perry Purtett.
“Run down, Perry,” said Wade, “to the ‘Ambuster,’ and ask Captain Isaac to step up here a moment. Tell him I have some freight to send by him.”
Perry moved through the Foundry with his usual jaunty step, left his dignity at the door, and ran off to the dock.
The weather had grown fitful. Heavy clouds whirled over, trailing snow-flurries. Rarely the sun found a cleft in the black canopy to shoot a ray through and remind the world that he was
