"Sure that's a hell of a name," he commented, simply. "The byes 'd
never get round the like o' that. Yer name 'll be Brogan. Brogan was
what we called the guy that was here before Clancy, and it done very
well. All right, then, Brogan. Ye'll have Clancy's locker; and moind
ye don't punch the clock a minute later than siven in the mornin', or
that little ould divil 'll be dancin' round to fire ye."
So Brogan I was at Messrs. Creed & Creed's all through the next two
years.
*CHAPTER V*
No lighter-hearted man than I trod the streets of New York that evening.
I had breakfasted in the morning; I had shared Bridget's cold meat and
bread at midday; I could "blow myself in" to something to eat now, and
then go happily to bed.
There was but one flaw in this bliss, and that was the thought of
Mildred Averill. Whether she would be glad or sorry that for the minute
I was landing on my feet, I could not forecast. And yet when I called
her up she pretended to be glad. I say she pretended, only because in
her first words there was a note of disappointment, perhaps of dismay,
though she recovered herself quickly.
"But I can be easy in my mind about you?" she asked, after I had
declined to tell her what my new occupation was.
"Quite easy; only I want you to know how grateful I am."
"Oh, please don't. If I could have done more!"
"Fortunately that wasn't needed."
"But if it should be needed in the future--"
"I hope it won't be."
"But if it should be?"
"Oh, then we'd--we'd see."
"So that for now it's--" that note stole into her voice again, and with
a wistful question in the intonation--"for now it's--it's good-by?"
"Only for now."