to half twilight, and Charming Billy took the opportunity to kick a
sardine can of stove-blacking under the stove where it would not be
seen. Some predecessor with domestic instincts had left behind
him half a package of "Rising Sun," and Billy had found it and was
intending to blacken the stove just as soon as he finished the dishes.
That he had left it as a crowning embellishment, rather than making it
the foundation of his house-cleaning, only proved his inexperience in
that line. Billy had "bached" a great deal, but he had never blacked a
stove in his life.

The foreman passed gloved fingers over his eyes, held them there
a moment, took them away and gazed in amazement; since he had been
foreman of the Double-Crank--and the years were many--Charming
Billy Boyle had been one of its "top-hands," and he had never before
caught him in the throes of "digging out."

"Fundamental furies!" swore he, in the unorthodox way he had. "Looks
like the Pilgrim was right--there's a lady took charge here."

Charming Billy turned red with embarrassment, and then quite pale with
rage. "The Pilgrim lied!" he denied sweepingly.

The foreman picked his way over the wet floor, in deference to its
comparative cleanliness stepping long so that he might leave as few
disfiguring tracks as possible, and unbuttoned his fur coat before the
heat of the stove.

"Well, maybe he did," he assented generously, gleaning a box from
the pile on the bunk and sitting down, "but it sure looks like
corroborative evidence, in here. How about it, Bill?"