. Entering, he strode to Daney's desk and transfixed
that harassed individual with an accusing finger.

"Andrew, this is your work, is it not?"

Mr. Daney's heart skipped a beat, but he remembered this was Friday
morning. So he decided not to be foolish and spar for time by asking
The Laird what work he referred to. Also, having read somewhere that,
in battle, the offensive frequently wins--the defensive never--he
glared defiantly at The Laird and growled.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" His demeanor appeared to
say: "This is my work, and I'm proud of it."

To Daney's profound amazement, The Laird smiled benignantly and thrust
out his hand, which Mr. Daney shook gingerly, as one might a can of
nitroglycerin.

"I thank you more than you will ever realize, Andrew, for taking this
matter out of my hands. I left the decision up to the Almighty and
evidently he inspired you to disobey me and save the day--without
compromising me."

"Pooh! That's the easiest thing I do." Mr. Daney's courage had
returned with a rush. "For heaven's sake, don't talk about it, sir. I
placed a call for the girl on the telephone--at your expense. Yes,
sir; I talked with her clear across the continent, and before she
even started from New York, it was understood that she is to jilt
Donald the minute the doctors pronounce him strong enough to stand
jilting."

"She told me, practically, the same thing. Oh, Andrew, Andrew, my boy,
this is bully work! Bully! Bully!"

Mr. Daney replied to this encomium with a deprecatory shrug and hoped
The Laird would never ask _him who had made the bargain_. Thus far, he
flattered himself, he had not strayed from the straight and narrow
path of strict veracity, and he hoped he would not have to. To obviate
this, he decided to get rid of The Laird immediately; so he affected
embarrassment; fussed with the pile of mail on his desk, and growled:

"All right, boss. If you're satisfied, I am. I haven't been able to
sleep very well since I started mixing in your family affairs, and
without sleep a man cannot hold up his job. I've got a lot of work to
do, and I cannot have any idle, interfering fellows stampeding round
my office; so I suggest that you run up to The Dreamerie to break the
good news to your poor wife and the girls, and let me get something
done."

"All right, Andrew; I'll go in a minute. Er--ah--you're certain,
Andrew, the girl understands quite thoroughly that I haven't had a
thing to