His calling Tom a forest architect was like his calling the cottage the executive mansion. And there seemed always the faintest slur in his invariable habit of calling Audry the maid of the mountain. But there was nothing critical or disrespectful in the words themselves and Tom, with all his profound regard for Audry, could never find anything to criticize in Whalen’s talk. It sometimes annoyed him that he could not. But as they became better acquainted he felt that Whalen did not take much stock in Miss Audry Ferris and that this was the real reason why she did not approve of Whalen. During the work which began that morning, Tom found his new friends companionable and cheerfully helpful. They began by selecting and felling trees, and by the middle of the afternoon they had laid four trunks across the brook and proceeded with the interesting task of chopping thinner timber for the rustic superstructure which they had jointly planned. “We’ll have a seat on either side of it,” said Tom. “So’s any one can sit and rest or read in it.” “Sip refreshment from the brook and wisdom from a book,” said Fairgreaves in his elegant way. “Miss Audry can come here with her book and imbibe wisdom under the arbor.” “And distribute it,” said Whalen. “A seat for pupils would be a good idea.” Tom said nothing. This was the sort of remark he did not like. That very first evening, after about the pleasantest and most interesting day’s work that Tom had ever done, something occurred which to him was nothing less than a minor tragedy. Mr. Royce Fairgreaves was called to other duties and thenceforth bestowed his pervasive personality and expansive smile elsewhere. Tom saw much of him thereafter, encountering him at various labors, usually in his derby and cutaway save when the heat forbade. “I am called to a wider field of usefulness,” Mr. Fairgreaves explained, which turned out to be picking stones for the reservoir which he did with all the grace and dignity that were his. He picked stones as if Shakespeare instead of Ferris had planned the work for him.... CHAPTER XIX TOM AND NED As the days passed a picturesque, rustic structure arose above the rough bridge and closed it in. No taint of bare or trimmed wood was there about it, the little dim resting-place being devised entirely of timber clothed in its natural bark. And as this work progressed Tom and his companion became close friends. Whalen had seen fighting in France and had a wound on his shoulder to show for it. Tom had also been “over there” and they found much to talk of while they worked and especially in their stroll to and from the hotel at luncheon time.