Griscom swung onto his cushion with a kind of jolly cheer, and the foreman, catching the echo, waved his welcome and approbation in an unusually pleasant way from the door of his little office.
Big Denny had been a periodical visitor to the roundhouse since the rescue of little Nora Forgan.
He had taken a strong fancy to Ralph, it seemed, and whenever he had a few minutes to spare would seek out the young wiper, and seemed to take a rare pleasure in posting him on many a bit of technical experience in the railroading line.
He chatted with Ralph on this last occasion while the latter sat filling the firemen's cans with oil, and drew him out as to his home life, his mother and his reason for going to work.
"So Farrington holds a mortgage on your home?" said Denny. "I didn't know that. He's pretty rich, I hear. I remember the time, though, when people thought your father was his partner in some of his bond deals."
"Yes, mother supposed so, too," said Ralph.
"Your father put him onto the good thing the railroad was, first of all. I know that much," declared Denny.
"It looks as if my father lost all his holdings just before he died," said Ralph.
"Then Farrington got them, I'll wager that—
