A Step Up

"Sit down," said Fuller, indicating a chair, and then gave him one of the
plans, some paper, and a fountain pen. "Study that piece of digging and
let me know the weight of stuff to be moved, the number of men you'd use,
and what you think the job would cost."

Dick set to work, and at once became absorbed. Twenty minutes passed and
he did not move or speak, nor did he see the smile with which Ida
answered Fuller's look. In another ten minutes he put down the pen and
gave Fuller his calculations.

"I think that's near it, sir. I'm reckoning on the use of colored peons."

Fuller nodded. "You haven't left much margin for what we call
contingencies. But they're going to bring us some coffee. Will you take a
cigar?"

A Chinaman brought out a silver coffee-pot on a tray, which he placed on
a folding table in front of Ida, and since it was two or three yards from
the other, Dick got up when she filled the cups. She gave him two, which
he carried back, but remained where she was, within hearing but far
enough away not to obtrude her society upon the others. Dick, who lighted
his cigar, felt grateful to Fuller. It was some time since he had met
people of any refinement on friendly terms, and until he took up his
quarters in the locomotive shed had been living in squalor and dirt.

There was not much furniture outside the tent, but the neat folding
tables, comfortable canvas chairs, delicate china, and silver coffee-pot
gave the place a luxurious look, and though Miss Fuller was, so to speak,
outside the circle, the presence of a well-dressed, attractive girl had
its charm. Indeed, Dick felt half embarrassed by the pleasantness of his
surroundings. They were unusual and reminded him poignantly of the
privileges he had enjoyed in England.