The liner came off the new fire
door letting the door get red hot, but it wasn't half as hot as Dennis.
He hammered it with the coal pick and burned his hands and swore, and
Dennis was an artist in profanity. He stepped up into the cab wiping his
face on his sleeve, and ripping the English and profane languages into
tatters; but he stopped short in the middle of an oath and looked
ashamed, glanced at me, crossed himself and went back to his work
quietly. When he came back into the cab, I asked him what choked him so
sudden.
"Her," said he, nodding his head toward the clock. "Howly Mither, man,
she looked hurted and sorry-like, same's me owld mither uster, whin I
was noctious with the blasthfemry." So the "Eyes" were on Dennis, too.
That took some of the conceit out of me, I was getting foolish about the
eyes.
We had a time order against a passenger train, it would be sharp work to
make the next station, the train was heavy, the road and the engine new
to me, and I hesitated. The conductor was dubious but said the "204" or
Frosty Keeler could do it any day of the week.
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