our it was.

It all occurred when Jack was hurrying to the ferry and when he ran
into the senior member of the firm, who was hurrying in the opposite
direction.

"Ah, Jack!--the very man I wanted to see," cried Breen. "I was going to
write you. There's something doing up in that ore country. Better drop
in to-morrow, I may be able to handle it for you, after all."

"I am sorry, sir, but it's not for sale," said Jack, trying to smother
his glee.

"Why?" demanded Breen bluntly.

"I have sold it to Mr. Robert Guthrie."

"Guthrie! The devil you say!--When?"

"To-day. The final papers are signed to-morrow. Excuse me, I must catch
my boat--" and away he went, his cup now brimming over, leaving Breen
biting his lips and muttering to himself as he gazed after him.

"Guthrie!--My customer! Damn that boy--I might have known he would land
on his feet."

But Jack kept on home to his sweetheart, most of the way in the air.

Down in the little room all this time in the rear of the tailor's shop
the two old men sat talking. Peter kept nothing back; his lips quivering
again and another unbidden tear peeping over the edge of his eyelid when
he told of Jack's offer.

"A dear boy, Isaac--yes, a dear boy. He never thinks with his head--only
with his heart. Never has since I knew him. Impulsive, emotional,
unpractical, no doubt--and yet somehow he always wins. Queer--very
queer! He comes upstairs to me and I start out on a fool's errand. He
goes down to you, and you hand him out your money. He gives it all away
the next day, and then we have Guthrie doubling the price. Queer, I tell
you, Isaac--extraordinary, that's what it is--almost uncanny."

The Jew threw away his cigar, rested his short elbows on the arms of
his chair, and made a basket of his hands, the tips of all his fingers
touching.

"No, you are wrong, my good friend. It is not extraordinary and it is
not uncanny. It is very simple--exceedingly simple. Nobody runs over
a child if he can help it. Even a thief will bring you back your
pocket-book if you trust him to take care of it. It is the trusting that
does it. Few men, no matter how crooked, can resist the temptation of
reaching, if only for a moment, an honest man's level."

CHAPTER XXXIII

Peter's coat was finished in time for the wedding--trust Isaac for
that--and so was his double-breasted white waistcoat--he had not changed
the cut in twenty years; and so were his pepper-and-salt trousers and
a