"That's Uncle Stanley's son Burdon," said Josiah when he had left. "He's
just through college; he's going to start in the office here."

Mary liked to hear that, and always after that she looked for Burdon and
watched him with an interest that had something of fascination in it.

Before she was ten, she and Josiah had become old chums. She knew the
factory by the river almost as well as she knew the house on the hill.
Not only that but she could have told you most of the processes through
which the bearings passed before they were ready for the shipping room.

To show you how her mind worked, one night she asked her father, "What
makes a machine squeak?"

"Needs oil," said Josiah, "generally speaking."

The next Saturday morning she not only kept her eyes open, but her ears
as well.

Presently her patience was rewarded.

"Squee-e-eak! Squee-e-eak!" complained a lathe which they were passing.
Mary stopped her father and looked her very old-fashionedest at the lathe
hand.

"Needs oil," said she, "gen'ly speaking."

It was one of the proud moments in Josiah's life, and yet when back of
him he heard a whisper, "Chip of the old block," he couldn't repress the
well nigh passionate yearning, "Oh, Lord, if she had only been a boy!"