Hawkeye's face went black as thunder.

Carleton's face was like a sphinx.

"That'll do, then," he said. "You can go, both of you."

Hawkeye stamped out of the room and down the stairs. But Toddles
stayed.

"Please, Mr. Carleton, won't you give me a job on----" Toddles stopped.

So had Regan's chuckle. Toddles, the irrepressible, was at it
again--and Toddles after a job, any kind of a job, was something that
Regan's experience had taught him to fly from without standing on the
order of his flight. Regan hurried from the room.

Toddles watched him go--kind of speculatively, kind of reproachfully.
Then he turned to Carleton.

"Please give me a job, Mr. Carleton," he pleaded. "Give me a job,
won't you?"

It was only yesterday on the platform that Toddles had waylaid the
super with the same demand--and about, every day before that as far
back as Carleton could remember. It was hopelessly chronic. Anything
convincing or appealing about it had gone long ago--Toddles said it
parrot-fashion now. Carleton took refuge in severity.

"See here, young man," he said grimly, "you were brought into this
office for a reprimand and not to apply for a job! You can thank your
stars and Bob Donkin you haven't lost the one you've got. Now, get
out!"

"I'd make good if you gave me one," said Toddles earnestly. "Honest, I
would, Mr. Carleton."

"Get out!" said the super, not altogether unkindly. "I'm busy."

Toddles swallowed a lump in his throat--but not until after his head
was turned and he'd started for the door so the super couldn't see it.
Toddles swallowed the lump--and got out. He hadn't expected anything
else, of course. The refusals were just as chronic as the demands.
But that didn't make each new one any easier for Toddles. It made it
worse.

Toddles' heart was heavy as he stepped out into the hall, and the iron
was in his soul. He was seventeen now, and it looked as though he
never would get a chance--except to be a newsboy all his life. Toddles
swallowed another lump. He loved railroading; it was his one ambition,
his one desire. If he could ever get a chance, he'd show them! He'd
show them that he wasn't a joke, just because he was small!

Toddles turned at the head of the stairs to go down, when somebody
called his name.

"Here--Toddles! Come here!"

Toddles looked over his shoulder, hesitated, then marched in through
the open door of the despatchers' room. Bob Donkin was alone there.