"This is the son I was telling you about. Pelham, this is Tom Hewin, who
keeps things moving in the mines."
"Pleased to meet you, sir." There was a servile hump to his shoulders; a
deprecating instability in his glance greeted the boy. "Hey, Jim." A
youth of Pelham's age, an uncertain smile dancing from his eyes,
advanced from the overalled workers. "This is my boy, sir. I'm learnin'
him to be a boss miner too." Hewin's flattened thumb pointed to Pelham.
"Want me to put him to work, sir?"
"He'll report next Monday."