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128 the wistful, melancholy way that he had done before seeing her. Now it was with a certain courageous gladness; for a time at least there might be no Stewart at hand to dispute his devotion, to reduce him to silence and retirement; for a time she would be his frank and glad companion. Now on this last Friday, with the north wind blowing down the promise of fine weather for his holiday, his face must have shown his joyousness, for Shelton would often glance at him wistfully, and Floyd, intent upon his work, or possibly his anticipations, did not notice. When the six o'clock whistle blew, the men gathered round Floyd and shook hands with him, bidding him good-by, and then hurried away, lest they might say too much. But Shelton hung round till the last and walked with Floyd across the bridge. Then, as they were to separate, he said awkwardly,—

"I don't blame you for bein' glad to quit us; I seen it in your face all day."

"No, Shelton," Floyd said, "if I've looked glad, that's not the reason; honestly, it's not. I want to thank you and the other fellows for the way you've treated me."

"Hell!" said Shelton, "’t was nothing. I'm proud to know you, Mr. Halket,—and some day I'll be proud to work for you."

He turned abruptly and walked off; Floyd stood quite speechless. Then his face lighted up and he called, "Shelton! O Shelton!" The man turned back, and they advanced towards each other; Floyd came up and put his hand on Shelton's shoulder.

"There was just one thing I felt I ought to say," he began earnestly. "Now that I'm going away, I can't help having it on my mind. I want you to promise me that you will be very, very careful about the fumes."

Shelton stared into his solemn face and burst into a loud laugh. Then he slapped his hand into Floyd's. "Good-by," he said. "Good-by." And so they parted.