Smash! the ball grazed the high brick wall around the old unused factory to the left, struck an upper window, shattered a pane to atoms, and disappeared.
"Lost ball!" jeered little Tom Travers.
No one went after it. The fence surrounding the factory bore two signs that deterred—one was "Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted," and the other announced that it was "For Rent, by the owner, Gasper Farrington."
Ralph made a grimace, and a mental note of later mending the breakage for which he was responsible.
Will Cheever caught him up as he was heading for home.
"See here, Ralph," he remarked, "if you wasn't so abominably close-mouthed"
"About what?" challenged Ralph, pleasantly serious. "Why, there's no mystery about my resigning. I had to do it."
"Why?"
"I've got to go to work. My mother needs the money, and I'm old enough."
"What you going to work at?" inquired Will, with real interest.
"Railroading,—if I can get it to do."
