Something he had intended to lay before Peter at the very moment the old fellow had sent him for Isaac--something he had come all the way to New York to discuss with him; something that had worried him for days.

There was but half an hour left; then he must get his bag and say good-night and good-by for another week or more.
Peter noticed the boy's mood and laid his hand on his wrist.

Somehow this was not the same Jack.
"I haven't hurt you, my son, have I ?" he asked with a note of tenderness in his voice.
"Hurt me! You couldn't hurt me, Uncle Peter!" There was no question of his sincerity as he spoke.

It sprang straight from his heart.
"Well, then, what's the matter ?--out with it.

No secrets from blundering old Peter," he rejoined in a satisfied tone.
Jack laughed gently: "Well, sir, it's about the work." It wasn't; but it might lead to it later on.
"Work!--what's the matter with the work! Anything wrong ?" There was a note of alarm now that made Jack reply hastily: "No, it will be finished next month: we are lining up the arches this week and the railroad people have already begun to dump their cross ties along the road bed.