The Iron Boys in the Steel Mills by James R. Mears
TOO SLOW FOR HIM
HE telephone bell rang sharply. Its very insistence seemed to indicate the nervous haste of the person on the other end of the line.
"Hello!" growled the boy, looking longingly out of the office window as he clapped the receiver to his ear. "What's that? What building? Pity they couldn't pick out a hot day, while they were about it. Yes, I'll tell him. 'Yes,' I said. Can't you hear?"
Several clerks, with coats and vests off, were lounging about the office of the great steel works in the accident department. The sun beat down on the building with relentless energy, and there was scarcely a breath of air stirring. There was little incentive to work, and hardly any one was making the slightest pretext at it.