The one he wished to see the most, however, was the first one he missed.
"Miss Mary's around the factory somewhere," said a stenographer.
Another spoke up, a dark girl with a touch of passion in her smile.

"I think Mr.Burdon is looking for her, too." Archey missed neither the smile nor the tone--and liked neither of them.
"He'll get in trouble yet," he thought, "going out with those girls," and his frown grew as he thought of Burdon's daily contact with Mary.
"I'll see if I can find her," he told himself after he had waited a few minutes; and stepping out into the full beauty of the June morning, he crossed the lawn toward the factory buildings.
On one of the trees a robin sang and watched him with its head atilt.

A bee hummed past him and settled on a trellis of roses.

In the distance murmured the falls, with their soothing, drowsy note.
"These are the days, when I was a boy, that I used to dream of running away and seeing the world and having great adventures," thought Archey, his frown forgotten.

He didn't consciously put it into words, but deep from his mind arose a feeling of the coming true of great dreams--of running away from the humdrum of life, of seeing the world, of taking a part in the greatest adventure ever staged by man.
"What a day!" he breathed, lifting his face to the sun.