Miles served roast beef and cherry pie. Lloyd had three helpings, and I noticed him wrap a fresh-baked roll in his bandana and stick it in his pocket. Then we went to sit in the library. Miles opened a box of cigars, made an elaborate display of choosing two and cutting them. He had a special cutter shaped like a guillotine, a present from Boston. He was never quite easy with it and had sliced his finger on several occasions.

Lloyd sat on the sofa and looked around the library with its bookshelves and piano.

“I reckon you didn’t grow up in a room like this,” he said.

“No,” Miles agreed. “No, of course not. My father was a simple mountain man.”

“Simple my foot,” I said. “You never figured him out.”

“You know what I mean,” Miles said. He gave me his down-the-nose look, which meant I should behave myself. “Daddy wasn’t a sophisticated man.” He smiled at Lloyd. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, of course. I’m proud of my background.”

Lloyd smiled back. “Reckon it’s helpful in your job. You come up like the rest of us. You know what it is to do a hard day’s work.”

“Yes. The company likes that. That’s one reason I was hired.”

“They like to know how their miners think.” Lloyd was reared back on the sofa, blowing smoke at the ceiling. “That’s smart. We’re a pretty cantankerous bunch, independent like. Dont take kindly to hard bossing.”

“I’ve helped them appreciate that in Boston,” Miles said. “They have to respect the independent turn of mind of the Appalachian miner.”

“Make the men mad, they might do something out of spite,” Lloyd agreed. “Like agitate for the union.”

Miles tried to look relaxed, but I saw right through him. He kept tapping his cigar against the ashtray long after the ashes had dropped. “You hear much about that?” he asked.

“Now and then,” Lloyd replied. “I dont put much count in it. Hit’s just a hothead shooting off his mouth.” He flicked his own ashes. “Now and then.”

Miles frowned. “Anything recent?”

“Not since the first week I was here. And the feller who said it, I dont think he even knows what a union is. He was just mad at a boss that day. I better not say nothing more about it. I aint wanting to get a feller in trouble over losing his temper.”

“Sure. I understand how people speak out in anger. No sense in making a big thing of it.”

“Man talking union, that aint no cause to fret yourself. Most of these men seem real happy.”

“I’m sure they are. This is a good company.”

“And not that I’m for the union,” Lloyd continued. “I was raised to look after myself. I dont want nobody telling me when I can work and when I cant. I know if I want to work or not. If I dont like the boss, that’s my privilege. I’ll say goodbye, move on.”