Not until late in the afternoon did the superintendent visit the
engine-room.

He was a short, brisk man, with small, alert eyes that had a faculty of
seeing more in one minute than most men could take in in half an hour.
His face was dark almost to swarthiness and his cheeks and chin were
smoothly shaven.

He popped his head into the engine-room and called out:

"Hi, there, Kendall! What's the word to-day? Eh, so it's the boy! Well,
come here."

Larry came forward promptly; he knew this brisk gentleman liked him,
and, but for the mysterious trouble at home, he would have rather seen
him than not.

"Your father under the weather to-day, Larry?" was his first question,
while his quick eye noted that the polished floor of the engine-room had
been freshly washed and that the engine itself was doing its ponderous
work with its accustomed silence. Even his ear would have detected a
wrong note in the click and whir of the mechanism, though he would not
have known how to repair the difficulty.

"No," said Larry, in his slow manner. "Father was called away this
morning. I don't think he had time to send you any notice."

"So he sent you, which is the next best thing."

"Yes, sir, thank you."