company every hour of the day, he had not taken time to think about it
much. But now he thought of little else, and as time went on he succeeded
in twisting nearly everything the new boss had said or done to fit his
theory that Bannon was jealous of him and was trying to take from him the
credit which rightfully belonged to him. And Bannon had put him in charge
of the night shift, so Peterson came to think, simply because he had seen
that Hilda was beginning to like him.

About four o'clock one afternoon, not many days after Grady's talk with
Bannon, Peterson sat on the steps of his boarding-house, trying to make up
his mind what to do, and wishing it were six o'clock. He wanted to stroll
down to the job to have a chat with his friends, but he had somewhat
childishly decided he wasn't wanted there while Miss Vogel was in the
office, so he sat still and whittled, and took another view of his
grievances. Glancing up, he saw Grady, the walking delegate, coming along
the sidewalk. Now that the responsibility of the elevator was off his
shoulders he no longer cherished any particular animosity toward the
little Irishman, but he remembered their last encounter and wondered
whether he should speak to him or not.

But Grady solved his doubt by calling out cheerfully to know how he was
and turning in toward the steps. "I suppose I ought to lick you after
what's passed between us," he added with a broad smile, "but if you're
willing we'll call it bygones."

"Sure," said Peterson.

"It's fine seasonable weather we're having, and just the thing for you on
the elevator. It's coming right along."

"First-rate."

"It's as interesting a bit of work as I ever saw. I was there the other
day looking at it. And, by the way, I had a long talk with Mr. Bannon.
He's a fine man."

Grady had seated himself on the step below Peterson. Now for the first
time he looked at him.

"He's a good hustler," said Peterson.

"Well, that's what passes for a fine man, these days, though mistakes are
sometimes made that way. But how does it happen that you're not down there
superintending? I hope some carpenter hasn't taken it into his head to
fire the boss."

"I'm not boss there any longer. The office sent Bannon down to take it
over my head."

"You don't tell me that? It's a pity." Grady was shaking his head
solemnly. "It's a pity. The men like you first-rate, Mr. Peterson. I'm not
saying they don't like anybody else, but they like you. But p