“I won’t say anything,” promised David. “You certainly like that Padre of yours, don’t you?” “So-so,” said Red, chuckling. “He’s grand if you’re dyin’ I’ve been told, but he’s sure a murderin’ cuss, so be you don’t walk straight whilst you’re enjoyin’ your usual health. Come on, let’s go down town and have a sody.” David was not listening. He pulled a worn notebook from his pocket and commenced to study its grimy pages. “Come on, fella!” repeated Red. “Leap into the Rolls-Worse. I’m starvin’ for a sody.” “I’m glad they used that new kind of covering, with those tricky interwoven seams,” said David dreamily, ignoring the appeal of the starving one. “They are going to save lots of worry, Red, and it’s certain they won’t give. That old blimp we tried it on with rips here and there to give the wind a chance, you remember? The seams never budged. The new alloy duralumin I like too, and the longer, slimmer line of the hull.” Red sat down again. “Those engines! Dave, they are as perfect—Lord, I love ’em! All the time they have been in there on the blocks, stopping and starting, stopping and starting; well, they have talked to me, David. One day a girl came in, a sightseer; and she yelled, ‘My, what a horrid noise! Isn’t it just awful?’ and I thought how nice it would be to tap her with a wrench, but I didn’t. I let that engine answer. I tuned her up and you couldn’t hear yourself think. Oh, but they are pretty, those engines! I don’t know whether I love ’em most when they are quiet and dreamin’ of what they can do, or when they are goin’ full speed with every part doin’ its bit, so smooth and so true that there’s no words to describe it.” “You are a sentimental Irishman,” said David. “I’m an Irishman that wants a sody,” said Red. “They will be putting the last engine in place this afternoon, won’t they?” asked David. “Yes, and I’ve got to be here. Then she will be practically finished. Just woodwork to wipe, and furniture to dust, and beds to make. Sounds like a housewarming.” “Did you know that they have named her?” asked David. “No. I thought she was the Silver Ship.” “Of course, but she has to have a sort of given name, like the Shenandoah, poor girl, and the Dawn, and the Sun God, and the rest. I heard Mr. Hammond’s daughter named her. She’s the Moonbeam.” “That’s all right,” said Red approvingly. “I give the girl credit. The Moonbeam! Faith, it grows on me, Davie. Moonbeam!” “I like it,” said David. “Pretty, and easy to say, but not silly.” “Well, here’s wishin’ her all the luck in the world,” said Red. “And the same to us. They just got to let me go when she takes her first try-out. I’d no sooner let those engines out of my sight first off than I’d use an umbrella for a ’chute.” “Better not let the engine crews hear you, you conceited devil! They think they’re pretty kippy themselves.”