it, Miss Masters?" inquired the boy.

"Well, Dickey, I don't think it's any of your business," retorted Miss
Masters good-naturedly. "But, for fear you'll burst with curiosity, I'll
say that it's Mr. Martin Druce."

"Happy as a crab this morning, ain't you?" jeered the boy. "Well, you
want to look out for that geezer, Druce. He's a devil with the girls."

Miss Masters made a face at him and the boy, whistling derisively,
disappeared through the door, not failing to slam it loudly after him.

Miss Masters resumed her letter sorting. The door opened slowly. A man
entered with his hat over his eyes. His hands were deep in his pockets
and he chewed a despondent looking cigar. Had the reader been present he
would have recognized him instantly, despite his unaccustomed air of
lugubriousness, as our old friend, Mr. Michael Grogan.

"Good morning, Mr. Grogan," said Miss Masters cordially.

Grogan made no reply. The girl went on with her work. Then as if
communing with herself she said: "And yet they say the Irish are always
polite."

"Eh?" said Grogan, rousing himself, "what's that?"

Miss Masters vouchsafed no reply. She merely laughed. Grogan, conscious
that he was being chaffed, stared at her. He was pleased with what he
saw. He found Miss Masters handsome. Her office dress, slit at the bottom
and displaying at this moment a neat ankle, was ruched about the neck and
sleeves. It was a rather elaborate dress for a stenographer, but John
Boland was a vain man and liked to have the employes he kept close about
him maintain the appearance of prosperity. In fact, he paid these
particular employes well with the explicit understanding that they would
keep their appearance up to his standard.

"You're making light of me gray hairs, I see," said Mr. Grogan, smiling.

"Well," said the girl, "I said good morning to you and you didn't even
grunt in reply."

"The top of the morning to you, Miss Masters," said Grogan, hastening to
remedy his oversight and removing his hat with an ornate bow.

"Sure, and I'm wishing you the same and many of them," replied the girl.

Mr. Grogan bowed again and added:

"And, if I have failed in the politeness due a lady, I begs yer pardon."

"You're forgiven, Mr. Grogan," replied Miss Masters, resuming her work.

Grogan returned to his meditations. He was regarding his mutilated cigar
ruefully when Miss Masters observed:

"If all of the millionaires were as thorough gentlemen as you are, Mr.