of being marvelous. He had galloped through business college at a speed which broke all their comfortable records, and his rapid rise at the mill was a never-ending wonder to his fellow workers. He was silent, tireless; he was the first one at work in the morning and the last one to leave at night; work was an obsession with him, a rapture and a dear delight. “By gad,” ejaculated Mr. ’Gene Carey to his superintendent, “you know that boy likes to work! He does, by the eternal! And you listen to me, Ben, I want him pushed on, fast as he can go!” The middle-aged and work-weary superintendent was nothing loath. The genial and gentle old owner[61] knew very little more about the actual working of his mill than his daughter did, far away in her Northern finishing school, and Ben Birdsall, a dour and conscientious employee, carried all the load. He was an industrious, slow-minded, well-meaning creature, and after the death of the old superintendent and his own promotion from foreman he had felt decidedly out of his depths. [61] “I haven’t got the head fo’ it, suh, an’ that’s the Lawd’s truth,” he said earnestly, protesting his advancement. “I’m a willing worker, suh, yo’ know that; I’m free to admit it fo’ myself, but I’m no office man, and that gal that’s markin’ up our books, suh, she’s a little worse’n what I am!” Mr. Carey put a kind hand on his shoulder. “Now, now, Ben, you just quit running yourself down! You suit me! I reckon I know honesty and ability when I see ’em. You’ve been with us——” “Oh, I know all that, suh,” old Ben shook his head. “I’m honest, and I can boss the hands, but I’m no office man. Now, if you was to get rid of Miss Minnie——” “But what do you reckon you’d find for her to do, Ben?” the owner worried. “Lawd, I wasn’t fixing to find her another job, suh! I was just aiming to get her out of this one, and get that boy Luke in!” “I could give her a mighty nice letter, of course,”[62] Mr. Carey mused. “Luke, did you say? Why, Ben, do you reckon that boy could do our books, young as he is, and green?” [62] “He’s young, but he’s not green,” the superintendent contested. “Why, that feller handles figgers as easy as you’n me handles a knife and fork! And he’s right from business college, you might say—two—three years—right hot off the griddle, and you know
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