ng night and day."

"And when is he going to get through?"

"That depends on what is ahead of us. Our borings show up all
right--most of it is tough gneiss--but if we strike gravel or shale
again it means more timbering, of course. Perhaps another year--perhaps
a few months. I am not giving you my own opinion, for I've had very
little experience, but that is what Bolton thinks--he's second in
command next to Mr. MacFarlane--and so do the other fellows at our
boarding house."

And then followed a discussion on "struts," roof timbers and tie-rods,
Jack describing in a modest, impersonal way the various methods used by
the members of the staff with which he was connected, Morris, as usual,
becoming so absorbed in the warding off of "cave-ins" that for the
moment he forgot the table, his hostess and everybody about him, a
situation which, while it delighted Peter, who was bursting with pride
over Jack, was beginning to wear upon Miss Felicia, who was entirely
indifferent as to whether the top covering of MacFarlane's underground
hole fell in or not.

"There, now, Holker," she said with a smile as she laid her hand on his
coat sleeve--"not another word. Tunnels are things everybody wants to
get through with as quick as possible--and I'm not going to spend all
night in yours--awful damp places full of smoke--No--not another word.
Ruth, ask that young Roebling next you to tell us another story--No,
wait until we have our coffee and you gentlemen have lighted your
cigars. Perhaps, Ruth, you had better take Mr. Breen into the
smoking-room. Now, give me your arm, Holker, and you come, too, Major,
and bring Peter with you to my boudoir. I want to show you the most
delicious copy of Shelley you ever saw. No, Mr. Breen, Ruth wants you;
we will be with you in a few minutes--" Then after the two had passed
on ahead--"Look at them, Major--aren't they a joy, just to watch?--and
aren't you ashamed of yourself that you have wasted your life? No arbor
for you! What would you give if a lovely girl like that wanted you all
to herself by the side of my frog pond?"

A shout ahead from Jack, and a rippling laugh from Ruth now floated our
way.

"Oh!--OH!--" and "Yes--isn't it wonderful--come and see the arbor--" and
then a clatter of feet down the soggy steps and fainter footfalls on the
moist bricks, ending in silence.

"There!" laughed Miss Felicia, turning toward us and clapping her
hands--"they have reached the arbor and it's all ov