There was no ceremony about this test. The memory of that other trial, with little Felicia as the central figure, was too fresh and too poignant. Just before the girls called breakfast on Monday morning, there sounded a soft chug, chug from the new engine house. It was so very soft that at first Charley thought she must be mistaken. Then she slipped out to see. Roger, his hot face tense and eager, was standing before his engine watching the perfect mechanism play.
"Look at her, Charley! Look at her! Isn't she a dream? Ernest, look at that indicator--does she do any work? Has she power? Why man, she could pull the waters of the Yangtse Kiang up through the bowels of the earth and throw 'em on Dick's alfalfa fields!"
Ernest stood staring at the engine, round eyed, his mouth open! "Man, what have you been putting over on me! Why, Rog, the old girl is practically noiseless. Throw in the pump, will you?"
Dick promptly threw in the pump, but almost immediately roared. "Hey, slow her down! Slow her down! She's going to pull the pump up by the roots."
"Rog, let's see your drawings a minute, you old sly boots, you!" said Ernest.
"You will laugh at me and tell me to increase the absorber area, will you!" exclaimed Roger. "Why, old man, I've developed the low temperature, high speed engine! It's the one the world has been looking for for years!"
In all the years Ernest had known his chum, he never had heard him express such enthusiasm as this, over his own work. Ernest's eyes were still staring, his mouth still open.
"I believe you have, Rog! I believe you have! Lord, I wish I'd known this when I went East."
"No more sweating down to Hackett's for gasoline, eh?" exclaimed Dick.
Roger grinned. "Day before yesterday's sun is turning the wheels just now. Come on in to breakfast, folks. We can leave her to herself for a while."
Then, as Elsa and Dick followed Ernest up the trail, Roger lingered to wipe a gauge tenderly with a bit of waste. As he did so, he noticed that Charley was standing in the doorway, her eyes fastened wistfully on the whirring fly wheel. She looked very like Felicia in her blue denim blouse and skirt and once more that old confusion of personalities flashed over Roger.
"It's--it's like Felicia's own engine, somehow," said Charley. "She did love to help you so. I wish she knew."
"Charley, dear girl--we miss her so, don't we!" Roger half whispered.
Charley's lips quivered and Roger, hastily wiping his hands, took one of hers and carried it to his lips. "You are so like her!" he said. "So like her!"