"And she--she was the most uninteresting, unsuccessful
female person I ever did know."
As Allison had promised they found McLean, the white-haired mill
superintendent, only too eager at the prospect of an audience for one
of his voluble tours of the premises. But when Caleb had explained the
main errand upon which they had come, after a long, keen scrutiny of
the boy's face, the burly river-man led the way, without a word, to a
wheezing old two-wheeler in the piling yard.
"So you'll be wantin' to take a spin in one av me ingines, is it?" he
asked then. And, after a moment: "An' do you think you'll be able to
hang on, whin she gets to r-rollin'?"
Steve's eyes were like bits of polished steel, so bright they were. It
was a struggle for him to take them, even for a moment, from the engine
before him.
"I cal'late I kin," he quavered.
"Well, thin, we'll see." McLean looked up and winked at the engineer
in the diminutive cab. "It's car-reful you'll be, Misther engineer,"
he cautioned, "an' watch your steerin' on the cur-rves!"
He leaned over to lift the boy to the running-board, but Steve, with
one foot upraised, hung back. He faced toward Caleb and, without a
glance in the girl's direction, said:
"Mebby she--mebby she'd like to go, too?"
Barbara Allison, chin lifted a little higher, half wheeled and slipped
her hand within that of her father.
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