He clanged his shovel on the hard stone floor and rattled the furnace
doors, while Larry tried the steam-cocks and then let the water into the
glass gauges, as he had done many times before.
Then he unlocked the door into the engine-room and left Joe to shovel in
the coal and regulate the draughts.
The engine--or engines, for there were two of the same power whose
pistons turned the same great fly-wheel--glistened a welcome to Larry,
and it seemed to him that they looked brighter even than usual upon this
clear September morning.
He began wiping them off with a handful of cotton waste, adding, if
possible, to the polished brightness of the powerful arms and cylinders;
but, before he had finished the work, a gruff voice caused him to look
up.
"You, is it?" the voice questioned.
The speaker was a young man of twenty-three, who was employed in the
works. Larry had seen him a great many times, for he was always
loitering about in the boiler and engine rooms when his father was
away.
This was contrary to rules, yet Larry, being so much younger, disliked
to order the young man out.
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