It was evident that they were expected, for a clerk rose from his
desk and came forward to greet them.
"Mr. Hennessey, the superintendent, said I was to bring you to his
office when you arrived," he said.
"Thank you."
"You are Mr. Carlton's son, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"I thought you must be. Mr. Hennessey himself is going to take you
through the works."
The clerk led the way to the door of a private office, where he
knocked.
"Mr. Carlton and his friend are here," he announced to the boy who
opened the door. "Tell Mr. Hennessey right away."
The boys had not a moment to wait before a large man with a genial
face and outstretched hand came forward.
"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Carlton," he said. "I'm Hennessey, the
superintendent. Possibly you may have heard your father speak of me;
I have been helping him make sugar for twenty years."
Bob smiled up into the eyes of the big man looking down at him.
"Indeed Dad has spoken of you, Mr. Hennessey," he said, returning
the hearty hand-shake. "He depends on you a lot. He says he always
feels sure that when you're on the job everything will be all
right."
Mr. Hennessey flushed with pleasure.
"I merely try to run your father's place as if it were my own," was
the modest rejoinder.
"That's just it--that's why Father feels he can go to the North Pole
if he wants to and not worry while he's gone," nodded Bob. "I think
it is mighty good of you to bother with my chum and me. Can't you
send some one to take us through the refinery? There is not the
slightest need for you to go with us yourself.
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