~n 
 
 TOM 
 OGAN 
 
 F-HOPKINSON SMITH 
 
(in < 
 
 L 
 
 Lathers shrank back, cowering before her (page 27) 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 BY 
 
 F. HOPKINSON SMITH 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 CHARLES S. REIN HART 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright, 1895 and 1896, 
 By THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 Copyright, 1896, 
 By F. HOPKINSON SMITH. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 FIFTIETH THOUSAND 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. Babcock's Discovery i 
 
 II. A Board Fence loses a Plank 15 
 
 III. Sergeant Duffy's Little Game . .28 
 
 IV. A Walking Delegate learns a New Step 50 
 V. A Word from the Tenements ... .65 
 
 VI. The Big Gray goes Hungry .... 74 
 VII. The Contents of Cully's Mail . . 83 
 
 VIII. Pop Mullins's Advice 94 
 
 IX. What a Sparrow saw , . „ , . .106 
 
 X. Cully wins by a Neck . . . , .114 
 
 XI. A Two-Dollar Bill . . . . . .126 
 
 XII. Cully's Night out ...... 138 
 
 XIII. Mr. Quigg draws a Plan 153 
 
 XIV. Blossom-Week 164 
 
 XV. In the Shadow of Death . <, . . .173 
 
 XVI. A Friend in Need ...... 189 
 
 XVII. A Daniel come to Judgment . . .201 
 
 249004 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 BABCOCK S DISCOVERY 
 
 SOMETHING worried Babcock. One 
 could see that from the impatient ges- 
 ture with which he turned away from the 
 ferry window on learning he had half an 
 hour to wait. He paced the slip with hands 
 deep in his pockets, his head on his chest. 
 Every now and then he stopped, snapped 
 open his watch and shut it again quickly, as 
 if to hurry the lagging minutes. 
 
 For the first time in years Tom Grogan, 
 who had always unloaded his boats, had 
 failed him. A scow loaded with stone for 
 the sea-wall that Babcock was building for 
 the Lighthouse Department had lain three 
 days at the government dock without a 
 bucket having been swung across her decks. 
 His foreman had just reported that there 
 was not enough material to last the concrete- 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 mixers two hours. If Grogan did not begin 
 work at once, the divers must come up. 
 
 Heretofore to turn over to Grogan the un- 
 loading of material for any submarine work 
 had been like feeding grist to a mill — so 
 many tons of concrete stone loaded on the 
 scows by the stone crushing company had 
 meant that exact amount delivered by Gro- 
 gan on Babcock's mixing-platforms twenty- 
 four hours after arrival, ready for the divers 
 below. This was the way Grogan had 
 worked, and he had required no watching. 
 
 Babcock's impatience did not cease even 
 when he took his seat on the upper deck of 
 the ferry-boat and caught the welcome sound 
 of the paddles sweeping back to the landing 
 at St. George. He thought of his men stand- 
 ing idle, and of the heavy penalties which 
 would be inflicted by the Government if the 
 winter caught him before the section of wall 
 was complete. It was no way to serve a 
 man, he kept repeating to himself, leaving 
 his gangs idle, now when the good weather 
 might soon be over and a full day's work 
 could never be counted upon. Earlier in the 
 season Grogan's delay would not have been 
 so serious. 
 
BABCOCK'S DISCOVERY 
 
 But one northeaster as yet had struck 
 the work. This had carried away some of 
 the upper planking — the false work of the 
 coffer-dam ; but this had been repaired in a 
 few hours without delay or serious damage. 
 After that the Indian summer had set in — 
 soft, dreamy days when the winds dozed by 
 the hour, the waves nibbled along the shores, 
 and the swelling breast of the ocean rose 
 and fell as if in gentle slumber. 
 
 But would this good weather last ? Bab- 
 cock rose hurriedly, as this anxiety again 
 took possession of him, and leaned over the 
 deck-rail, scanning the sky. He did not like 
 the drift of the low clouds off to the west ; 
 southeasters began that way. It looked as 
 though the wind might change. 
 
 Some men would not have worried over 
 these possibilities. Babcock did. He was 
 that kind of man. 
 
 When the boat touched the shore, he 
 sprang over the chains, and hurried through 
 the ferry-slip. 
 
 " Keep an eye out, sir," the bridge-tender 
 called after him, — he had been directing 
 him to Grogan's house, — "perhaps Tom 
 may be on the road." 
 
 3 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Then it suddenly occurred to Babcock 
 that, so far as he could remember, he had 
 never seen Mr. Thomas Grogan, his steve- 
 dore. He knew Grogan's name, of course, 
 and would have recognized his signature 
 affixed to the little cramped notes with which 
 his orders were always acknowledged, but 
 the man himself might have passed unno- 
 ticed within three feet of him. This is not 
 unusual where the work of a contractor lies 
 in scattered places, and he must often de- 
 pend on strangers in the several localities. 
 
 As he hurried over the road he recalled 
 the face of Grogan's foreman, a big blond 
 Swede, and that of Grogan's daughter, a 
 slender fair-haired girl, who once came to 
 the office for her father's pay ; but all efforts 
 at reviving the lineaments of Grogan failed. 
 
 With this fact clear in his mind, he felt a 
 tinge of disappointment. It would have re- 
 lieved his temper to unload a portion of it 
 upon the offending stevedore. Nothing cools 
 a man's wrath so quickly as not knowing the 
 size of the head he intends to hit. 
 
 As he approached near enough to the sea- 
 wall to distinguish the swinging booms and 
 the puffs of white steam from the hoisting- 
 
BABCOCK'S DISCOVERY 
 
 engines, he saw that the main derrick was at 
 work \owering the buckets of mixed concrete 
 to the divers. Instantly his spirits rose. 
 The delay on his contract might not be so 
 serious. Perhaps, after all, Grogan had 
 started work. 
 
 When he reached the temporary wooden 
 fence built by the Government, shutting off 
 the view of the depot yard, with its coal- 
 docks and machine-shops, and neared the 
 small door cut through its planking, a voice 
 rang out clear and strong above the din of 
 the mixers : — 
 
 " Hold on, ye wall-eyed macaroni ! Do ye 
 want that fall cut ? Turn that snatch-block, 
 Cully, and tighten up the watch-tackle. 
 Here, cap'n, lend a hand. Lively now, lively, 
 before I straighten out the hull gang of ye ! " 
 
 The voice had a ring of unquestioned au- 
 thority. It was not quarrelsome or abusive 
 or bullying — only earnest and forceful. 
 
 " Ease away on that guy ! Ease away, I 
 tell ye!" it continued, rising in intensity. 
 " So — all gone ! Now, haul out, Cully, and 
 let that other team back up." 
 
 Babcock pushed open the door in the fence 
 and stepped in. A loaded scow lay close be- 
 5 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 side the string-piece of the government wharf. 
 Alongside its forward hatch was rigged a 
 derrick with a swinging gaff. The "fall" 
 led through a snatch-block in the planking 
 of the dock, and operated an iron bucket 
 that was hoisted by a big gray horse driven 
 by a boy. A gang of men were filling these 
 buckets, and a number of teams being loaded 
 with their dumped contents. The captain of 
 the scow was on the dock, holding the guy. 
 
 At the foot of the derrick, within ten feet 
 of Babcock, stood a woman perhaps thirty- 
 five years of age, with large, clear gray eyes, 
 made all the more luminous by the deep, rich 
 color of her sunburnt skin. Her teeth were 
 snow-white, and her light brown hair was 
 neatly parted over a wide forehead. She 
 wore a long ulster half concealing her well- 
 rounded, muscular figure, and a black silk 
 hood rolled back from her face, the strings 
 falling over her broad shoulders, revealing a 
 red silk scarf loosely wound about her throat, 
 the two ends tucked in her bosom. Her 
 feet were shod in thick-soled shoes laced 
 around her well-turned ankles, and her hands 
 were covered by buckskin gauntlets creased 
 with wear. From the outside breast-pocket 
 6 
 
BABCOCK'S DISCOVERY 
 
 of her ulster protruded a time-book, from 
 which dangled a pencil fastened to a hempen 
 string. Every movement indicated great 
 physical strength, perfect health, and a thor- 
 ough control of herself and her surroundings. 
 Coupled with this was a dignity and repose 
 unmistakable to those who have watched the 
 handling of large bodies of workingmen by 
 some one leading spirit, master in every tone 
 of the voice and every gesture of the body. 
 The woman gave Babcock a quick glance of 
 interrogation as he entered, and, receiving 
 no answer, forgot him instantly. 
 
 " Come, now, ye blatherin' Dagos," — this 
 time to two Italian shovelers filling the buck- 
 ets, — " shall I throw one of ye overboard to 
 wake ye up, or will I take a hand meself ? 
 Another shovel there — that bucket's not 
 half full " — drawing one hand from her side 
 pocket and pointing with an authoritative 
 gesture, breaking as suddenly into a good- 
 humored laugh over the awkwardness of 
 their movements. 
 
 Babcock, with all his curiosity aroused, 
 
 watched her for a moment, forgetting for the 
 
 time his own anxieties. He liked a skilled 
 
 hand, and he liked push and grit. This 
 
 7 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 woman seemed to possess all three. He was 
 amazed at the way in which she handled 
 her men. He wished somebody as clear- 
 headed and as capable were unloading his 
 boat. He began to wonder who she might 
 be. There was no mistaking her nationality. 
 Slight as was her accent, her direct descent 
 from the land of the shamrock and the shilla- 
 lah was not to be doubted. The very tones of 
 her voice seemed saturated with its national 
 spirit — "a flower for you when you agree 
 with me, and a broken head when you don't." 
 But underneath all these outward indications 
 of dominant power and great physical strength 
 he detected in the lines of the mouth and 
 eyes a certain refinement of nature. There 
 was, too, a fresh, rosy wholesomeness, a 
 sweet cleanliness, about the woman. These, 
 added to the noble lines of her figure, would 
 have appealed to one as beauty, and only that 
 had it not been that the firm mouth, well- 
 set chin, and deep, penetrating glance of the 
 eye overpowered all other impressions. 
 
 Babcock moved down beside her. 
 
 " Can you tell me, madam, where I can 
 find Thomas Grogan ? " 
 
 " Right in front of ye," she answered, turn- 
 8 
 
BABCOCK'S DISCOVERY 
 
 ing quickly, with a toss of her head like that 
 of a great hound baffled in hunt. " I 'm Tom 
 Grogan. What can I do for ye ? " 
 
 " Not Grogan the stevedore ? " Babcock 
 asked in astonishment. 
 
 "Yes, Grogan the stevedore. Come ! 
 Make it short, — what can I do for ye ? " 
 
 " Then this must be my boat. I came 
 down " — 
 
 " Ye 're not the boss ? " — looking him over 
 slowly from his feet up, a good-natured smile 
 irradiating her face, her eyes beaming, every 
 tooth glistening. " There 's me hand. I 'm 
 glad to see ye. I 've worked for ye off and on 
 for four years, and niver laid eyes on ye till 
 this minute. Don't say a word. I know it. 
 I 've kept the concrete gangs back half a day, 
 but I could n't help it. I 've had four horses 
 down with the 'zooty, and two men laid 
 up with dip'thery. The Big Gray Cully's 
 drivin' over there — the one that 's a-hoistin' 
 — ain't fit to be out of the stables. If ye 
 were n't behind in the work, he 'd have two 
 blankets on him this minute. But I 'm here 
 meself now, and I '11 have her out to-night if 
 I work till daylight. Here, cap'n, pull yerself 
 together. This is the boss." 
 9 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Then catching sight of the boy turning a 
 handspring behind the horse, she called out 
 again : — 
 
 " Now, look here, Cully, none of your 
 skylarkin'. There 's the dinner whistle. Un- 
 hitch the Big Gray ; he 's as dry as a bone." 
 
 The boy loosened the traces and led the 
 horse to water, and Babcock, after a word 
 with the Captain, and an encouraging smile 
 to Tom, turned away. He meant to go to 
 the engineer's office before his return to 
 town, now that his affairs with Grogan were 
 settled. As he swung back the door in the 
 board fence, he stumbled over a mere scrap 
 of humanity carrying a dinner-pail. The 
 mite was peering through the crack and 
 calling to Cully at the horse-trough. He 
 proved to be a boy of perhaps seven or eight 
 years of age, but with the face of an old man 
 — pinched, weary, and scarred all over with 
 suffering and pain. He wore a white tennis- 
 cap pulled over his eyes, and a short gray 
 jacket that reached to his waist. Under one 
 arm was a wooden crutch. His left leg was 
 bent at the knee, and swung clear when he 
 jerked his little body along the ground. The 
 other, though unhurt, was thin and bony, the 
 10 
 
BABCOCK'S DISCOVERY 
 
 yarn stocking wrinkling over the shrunken 
 calf. 
 
 Beside him stood a big billy-goat, harnessed 
 to a two-wheeled cart made of a soap-box. 
 
 As Babcock stepped aside to let the boy 
 pass he heard Cully shouting in answer to 
 the little cripple's cries. " Cheese it, Patsy. 
 Here 's Pete Lathers comin' down de yard. 
 Look out fer Stumpy. He '11 have his dog 
 on him." 
 
 Patsy laid down the pail and crept through 
 the door again, drawing the crutch after him. 
 The yardmaster passed with a bulldog at his 
 heels, and touching his hat to the contractor, 
 turned the corner of the coal-shed. 
 
 " What is your name ? " said Babcock 
 gently. A cripple always appealed to him, 
 especially a child. 
 
 " My name's Patsy, sir," looking straight 
 up into Babcock's eyes, the goat nibbling at 
 his thin hand. 
 
 " And who are you looking for ? " 
 
 " I come down with mother's dinner, sir. 
 She 's here working on the dock. There she 
 is now." 
 
 " I thought ye were niver comin' wid that 
 dinner, darlint," came a woman's voice. 
 ii 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 " What kept ye ? Stumpy was tired, was he ? 
 Well, niver mind." 
 
 The woman lifted the little fellow in her 
 arms, pushed back his cap and smoothed his 
 hair with her fingers, her whole face beaming 
 with tenderness. 
 
 " Gimme the crutch, darlint, and hold on 
 to me tight, and we '11 get under the shed 
 out of the sun till I see what Jennie 's sent 
 me." At this instant she caught Babcock's 
 eye. 
 
 " Oh, it 's the boss. Sure, I thought ye 'd 
 gone back. Pull the hat off ye, me boy ; it 's 
 the boss we 're workin' for, the man that 's 
 buildin' the wall. Ye see, sir, when I 'm driv' 
 like I am to-day, I can't go home to dinner, 
 and me Jennie sends me — big — man — 
 Patsy — down " — rounding out each word 
 in a pompous tone, as she slipped her hand 
 under the boy's chin and kissed him on the 
 cheek. 
 
 After she had propped him between two 
 big spars, she lifted the cover of the tin pail. 
 
 " Pigs' feet, as I 'm alive, and hot cabbage, 
 and the coffee a-b'ilin' too ! " she said, turning 
 to the boy and pulling out a tin flask with a 
 screw top, the whole embedded in the smoking 
 
 12 
 
BABCOCK'S DISCOVERY 
 
 cabbage. " There, we '11 be after puttin' it 
 where Stumpy can't be rubbin' his nose in 
 it " — setting the pail, as she spoke, on a 
 rough anchor-stone. 
 
 Here the goat moved up, rubbing his head 
 in the boy's face, and then reaching around 
 for the pail. 
 
 " Look at him, Patsy ! Git out, ye imp, or 
 I '11 hurt ye ! Leave that kiver alone ! " She 
 laughed as she struck at the goat with her 
 empty gauntlet, and shrank back out of the 
 way of his horns. 
 
 There was no embarrassment over her in- 
 formal dinner, eaten as she sat squat in a 
 fence-corner, an anchor-stone for a table, and 
 a pile of spars for a chair. She talked to 
 Babcock in an unabashed, self-possessed way, 
 pouring out the smoking coffee in the flask 
 cup, chewing away on the pigs' feet, and 
 throwing the bones to the goat who sniffed 
 them contemptuously. " Yes, he 's the young- 
 est of our children, sir. He and Jennie — 
 that 's home, and 'most as tall as meself — 
 are all that 's left. The other two went to 
 heaven when they was little ones." 
 
 " Can't the little fellow's leg be straight- 
 ened ? " asked Babcock, in a tone which 
 
 13 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 plainly showed his sympathy for the boy's 
 suffering. 
 
 " No, not now ; so Dr. Mason says. There 
 was a time when it might have been, but I 
 could n't take him. I had him over to Quar- 
 antine again two years ago, but it was too 
 late ; it 'd growed fast, they said. When he 
 was four years old he would be under the 
 horses' heels all the time, and a-climbin' over 
 them in the stable, and one day the Big Gray 
 fetched him a crack, and broke his hip. He 
 did n't mean it, for he 's as dacint a horse as 
 I 've got ; but the boys had been a-worritin' 
 him, and he let drive, thinkin', most likely, 
 it was them. He 's been a-hoistin' all the 
 mornin'." Then, catching sight of Cully 
 leading the horse back to work, she rose to 
 her feet, all the fire and energy renewed in 
 her face. 
 
 " Shake the men up, Cully ! I can't give 
 'em but half an hour to-day. We 're behind 
 time now. And tell the cap'n to pull them 
 macaronis out of the hold, and start two of 
 'em to trimmin' some of that stone to star- 
 board. She was a-listin' when we knocked 
 off for dinner. Come, lively ! " 
 14 
 
II 
 
 A BOARD FENCE LOSES -A PLANK 
 
 THE work on the sea-wall progressed. 
 The coffer-dam which had been built 
 by driving into the mud of the bottom a 
 double row of heavy tongued and grooved 
 planking in two parallel rows, and bulkhead- 
 ing each end with heavy boards, had been 
 filled with concrete to low-water mark, con- 
 suming not only the contents of the delayed 
 scow, but two subsequent cargoes, both of 
 which had been unloaded by Tom Grogan. 
 
 To keep out the leakage, steam-pumps 
 were kept going night and day. 
 
 By dint of hard work the upper masonry 
 of the wall had been laid to the top course, 
 ready for the coping, and there was now 
 every prospect that the last stone would be 
 lowered into place before the winter storms 
 set in. 
 
 The shanty — a temporary structure, good 
 only for the life of the work — rested on a 
 *5 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 set of stringers laid on extra piles driven 
 outside of the working-platform. When the 
 submarine work lies miles from shore, a 
 shanty is the only shelter for the men, its 
 interior being arranged with sleeping-bunks, 
 with one end partitioned off for a kitchen and 
 a storage-room. This last is filled with per- 
 ishable property, extra blocks, Manila rope, 
 portable forges, tools, shovels, and barrows. 
 
 For this present sea-wall — an amphibious 
 sort of structure, with one foot on land and 
 the other in the water — the shanty was of 
 light pine boards, roofed over, and made 
 water-tight by tarred paper. The bunks had 
 been omitted, for most of the men boarded 
 in the village. In this way increased space 
 for the storage of tools was gained, besides 
 room for a desk containing the government 
 working-drawings and specifications, pay-rolls, 
 etc. In addition to its door, fastened at night 
 with a padlock, and its one glass window, 
 secured by a ten-penny nail, the shanty had 
 a flap-window, hinged at the bottom. When 
 this was propped up with a barrel stave it 
 made a counter from which to pay the men, 
 the paymaster standing inside. 
 
 Babcock was sitting on a keg of dock spikes 
 16 
 
A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 
 
 inside this working shanty some days after 
 he had discovered Tom's identity, watching 
 his bookkeeper preparing the pay-roll, when 
 a face was thrust through the square of the 
 window. It was not a prepossessing face, 
 rather pudgy and sleek, with uncertain, droop- 
 ing mouth, and eyes that always looked over 
 one's head when he talked. It was the prop- 
 erty of Mr. Peter Lathers, the yardmaster 
 of the depot. 
 
 " When you 're done payin' off maybe you '11 
 step outside, sir," he said, in a confiding 
 tone. " I got a friend of mine who wants to 
 know you. He's a stevedore, and does the 
 work to the fort. He 's never done nothin' 
 for you, but I told him next time you come 
 down I 'd fetch him over. Say, Dan ! " 
 beckoning with his head over his shoulder ; 
 then, turning to Babcock, — "I make you 
 acquainted, sir, with Mr. Daniel McGavv." 
 
 Two faces now filled the window — La- 
 thers's and that of a red-headed man in a 
 straw hat. 
 
 " All right. I '11 attend to you in a moment. 
 Glad to see you, Mr. McGaw," said Babcock, 
 rising from the keg, and looking over his 
 bookkeeper's shoulder. 
 17 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Lathers's friend proved to be a short, big- 
 boned, square-shouldered Irishman, about 
 forty years of age, dressed in a once black 
 broadcloth suit with frayed buttonholes, the 
 lapels and vest covered with grease-spots. 
 Around his collar, which had done service for 
 several days, was twisted a red tie decorated 
 with a glass pin. His face was spattered 
 with blue powder-marks, as if from some 
 quarry explosion. A lump of a mustache 
 dyed dark brown concealed his upper lip, 
 making all the more conspicuous the bushy, 
 sandy-colored eyebrows that shaded a pair of 
 treacherous eyes. His mouth was coarse and 
 filled with teeth half worn off, like those of 
 an old horse. When he smiled these opened 
 slowly like a vise. Whatever of humor played 
 about this opening lost its life instantly when 
 these jaws clicked together again. 
 
 The hands were big and strong, wrinkled 
 and seamed, their rough backs spotted like 
 a toad's, the wrists covered with long spidery 
 hairs. 
 
 Babcock noticed particularly his low, flat 
 forehead when he removed his hat, and the 
 dry, red hair growing close to the eyebrows. 
 
 11 1 wuz a-sp'akin' to me fri'nd Mister 
 18 
 
A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 
 
 Lathers about doin' yer wurruk," began Mc- 
 Gaw, resting one foot on a pile of barrow- 
 planks, his elbow on his knee. " I does all 
 the haulin' to the foort. Surgint Duffy knows 
 me. I wuz along here las' week, an' see ye 
 wuz put back fer stone. If I 'd had the job, 
 I 'd had her unloaded two days befoore." 
 
 "You're dead right, Dan," said Lathers, 
 with an expression of disgust. " This woman 
 business ain't no good, nohow. She ought 
 to be over her tubs." 
 
 " She does her work, though," Babcock 
 said, beginning to see the drift of things. 
 
 " Oh, I don't be sayin' she don't. She 's 
 a dacint woman, anough ; but thim b'ys as 
 is a-runnin' her carts is raisin' h — 11 all the 
 toime." 
 
 "And then look at the teams," chimed in 
 Lathers, with a jerk of his thumb toward the 
 dock — "a lot of staggering horse-car wrecks 
 you couldn't sell to a glue-factory. That 
 big gray she had a-hoistin' is blind of an eye 
 and sprung so forrard he can't hardly stand." 
 
 At this moment the refrain of a song from 
 somewhere near the board fence came waft- 
 ing through the air, — 
 
 " And he wiped up the floor wid McGeechy." 
 19 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 McGaw turned his head in search of the 
 singer, and not finding him, resumed his po- 
 sition. 
 
 " What are your rates per ton ? " asked 
 Babcock. 
 
 " We 're a-chargin' forty cints," said Mc- 
 Gaw, deferring to Lathers, as if for confir- 
 mation. 
 
 " Who 's'we' ? " 
 
 "The Stevedores' Union." 
 
 " But Mrs. Grogan is doing it for thirty," 
 said Babcock, looking straight into McGaw's 
 eyes, and speaking slowly and deliberately. 
 
 " Yis, I heared she wuz a-cuttin' rates ; but 
 she can't live at it. If I does it, it '11 be done 
 roight, an' no throuble." 
 
 " I '11 think it over," said Babcock quietly, 
 turning on his heel. The meanness of the 
 whole affair offended him — two big, strong 
 men vilifying a woman with no protector but 
 her two hands. McGaw should never lift a 
 shovel for him. 
 
 Again the song floated out ; this time it 
 seemed nearer, — 
 
 "... wid McGeechy — 
 McGeechy of the Fourth." 
 
 " Dan McGaw 's giv'n it to you straight," 
 20 
 
A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 
 
 said Lathers, stopping for a last word, his 
 face thrust through the window again. " He 's 
 rigged for this business, and Grogan ain't 
 in it with him. If she wants her work done 
 right, she ought to send down something 
 with a mustache." 
 
 Here the song subsided in a prolonged 
 chuckle. McGaw turned, and caught sight 
 of a boy's head, with its mop of black hair 
 thrust through a crownless hat, leaning over 
 a water cask. Lathers turned, too, and in- 
 stantly lowered his voice. The head ducked 
 out of sight. In the flash glance Babcock 
 caught of the face, he recognized the boy 
 Cully, Patsy's friend, and the driver of the 
 Big Gray. It was evident to Babcock that 
 Cully at that moment was bubbling over with 
 fun. Indeed, this waif of the streets, some- 
 times called James Finnegan, was seldom 
 known to be otherwise. 
 
 " Thet 's the wurrst rat in the stables/' 
 said McGaw, his face reddening with anger. 
 " What kin ye do whin ye 're a-buckin' 
 ag'in' a lot uv divils loike him?" — speak- 
 ing through the window to Babcock. " Come 
 out uv thet," he called to Cully, " or I '11 
 bu'st yer jaw, ye sneakin' rat ! " 
 
 21 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Cully came out, but not in obedience to 
 McGaw or Lathers. Indeed, he paid no more 
 attention to either of those distinguished 
 diplomats than if they had been two cement- 
 barrels standing on end. His face, too, had 
 lost its irradiating smile ; not a wrinkle or a 
 pucker ruffled its calm surface. His clay- 
 soiled hat was in his hand — a very dirty 
 hand, by the way, with the torn cuff of his 
 shirt hanging loosely over it. His trousers 
 bagged everywhere — at knees, seat, and 
 waist. On his stockingless feet were a pair 
 of sun-baked, brick-colored shoes. His ankles 
 were as dark as mahogany. His throat and 
 chest were bare, the skin tanned to leather 
 wherever the sun could work its way through 
 the holes in his garments. From out of this 
 combination of dust and rags shone a pair 
 of piercing black eyes, snapping with fun. 
 
 " I come up fer de mont's pay," he said 
 coolly to Babcock, the corner of his eye 
 glued to Lathers. " De ole woman said ye 'd 
 hev it ready." 
 
 " Mrs. Grogan's ? " asked the bookkeeper, 
 shuffling over his envelopes. 
 
 "Yep. Tom Grogan." 
 
 " Can you sign the pay-roll ? " 
 22 
 
A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 
 
 " You bet " — with an eye still out for 
 Lathers. 
 
 " Where did you learn to write — at 
 school ? " asked Babcock, noting the boy's 
 independence with undisguised pleasure. 
 
 " Naw. Patsy an' me studies nights. Pop 
 Mullins teaches us — he 's de ole woman's 
 farder what she brung out from Ireland. 
 He 's a-livin' up ter de shebang ; dey 're all 
 a-livin' dere — Jinnie an' de ole woman an' 
 Patsy — all 'cept me an' Carl. I bunks in 
 wid de Big Gray. Say, mister, ye 'd oughter 
 git onter Patsy — he 's de little kid wid de 
 crutch. He 's a corker, he is ; reads po'try 
 an' everythin'. Where '11 I sign ? Oh, I 
 see ; in dis 'ere square hole right along- 
 side de ole woman's name " — spreading his 
 elbows, pen in hand, and affixing " James 
 Finnegan" to the collection of autographs. 
 The next moment he was running along the 
 dock, the money envelope tight in his hand, 
 sticking out his tongue at McGaw, and call- 
 ing to Lathers as he disappeared through 
 the door in the fence, " Somp'n wid a rmis- 
 tache, somp'n wid a mustache," like a news- 
 boy calling an extra. Then a stone grazed 
 Lathers's ear. 
 
 23 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Lathers sprang through the gate, but the 
 boy was half way through the yard. It was 
 this flea-like alertness that always saved Mr. 
 Finnegan's scalp. 
 
 Once out of Lathers's reach, Cully bounded 
 up the road like a careering letter X, with 
 arms and legs in air. If there was any one 
 thing that delighted the boy's soul, it was, to 
 quote from his own picturesque vocabulary, 
 "to set up a job on de ole woman." Here 
 was his chance. Before he reached the stable 
 he had planned the whole scene, even to the 
 exact intonation of Lathers's voice when he 
 referred to the dearth of mustaches in the 
 Grogan household. Within a few minutes 
 of his arrival the details of the whole occur- 
 rence, word for word, with such picturesque 
 additions as his own fertile imagination could 
 invent, were common talk about the yard. 
 
 Lathers meanwhile had been called upon 
 to direct a gang of laborers who were mov- 
 ing an enormous iron buoy-float down the 
 cinder-covered path to the dock. Two of 
 the men walked beside the buoy, steadying 
 it with their hands. Lathers was leaning 
 against the board fence of the shop whittling 
 a stick, while the others worked. 
 24 
 
A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 
 
 Suddenly there was an angry cry for La- 
 thers, and every man stood still. So did the 
 buoy and the moving truck. 
 
 With head up, eyes blazing, her silk hood 
 pushed back from her face, as if to give her 
 air, her gray ulster open to her waist, her 
 right hand bare of a glove, came Tom Gro- 
 gan, brushing the men out of her way. 
 
 "I knew I'd find you, Pete Lathers," she 
 said, facing him squarely ; " why do ye want 
 to be takin' the bread out of me children's 
 mouths?" 
 
 The stick dropped from Lathers's hand : 
 " Well, who said I did ? What have I got to 
 do with your " — 
 
 " You 've got enough to do with 'em, you 
 and your friend McGaw, to want 'em to starve. 
 Have I ever hurt ye that ye should try an' 
 sneak me business away from me ? Ye know 
 very well the fight I 've made, standin' out 
 on this dock, many a day an' night, in the 
 cold an' wet, with nothin' between Tom's 
 children an' the street but these two hands — 
 an' yet ye 'd slink in like a dog to get me " — 
 
 "Here, now, I ain't a-goin' to have no 
 row," said Lathers, twitching his shoulders. 
 " It 's against orders, an' I '11 call the yard- 
 
 25 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 watch, and throw you out if you make any 
 fuss." 
 
 "The yard-watch ! " said Tom, with a look 
 of supreme contempt. " I can handle any 
 two of 'em, an' ye too, an' ye know it." Her 
 cheeks were aflame. She crowded Lathers 
 so closely his slinking figure hugged the 
 fence. 
 
 By this time the gang had abandoned the 
 buoy, and were standing aghast, watching the 
 fury of the Amazon. 
 
 " Now, see here, don't make a muss ; the 
 commandant '11 be down here in a minute." 
 
 " Let him come ; he 's the one I want to 
 see. If he knew he had a man in his pay 
 that would do as dirty a trick to a woman as 
 ye 've done to me, his name would be Dinnis. 
 I '11 see him meself this very day, and " — 
 
 Here Lathers interrupted with an angry 
 gesture. 
 
 " Don't ye lift yer arm at me," she blazed 
 out, " or I '11 break it at the wrist ! " 
 
 Lathers's hand dropped. All the color was 
 out of his face, his lip quivering. 
 
 " Whoever said I said a word against you, 
 
 Mrs. Grogan, is a liar." It was the last 
 
 resort of a cowardly nature. 
 26 
 
A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 
 
 " Stop lyin' to me, Pete Lathers ! If 
 there 's anythin' in this world I hate, it 's a 
 liar. * Ye said it, and ye know ye said it. 
 Ye want that drunken loafer Dan McGaw to 
 get me work. Ye 've been at it all summer, 
 an' ye think I have n't watched ye ; but I 
 have. And ye say I don't pay full wages, 
 and have got a lot of boys to do men's work, 
 an' oughter be over me tubs. Now let me 
 tell ye" — Lathers shrank back, cowering 
 before her — " if ever I hear ye openin' yer 
 head about me, or me teams, or me work, 
 I '11 make ye swallow every tooth in yer head. 
 Send down somethin' with a mustache, will 
 I ? There 's not a man in the yard that 's a 
 match for me, an' ye know it. Let one of 
 'em try that." 
 
 Her uplifted fist, tight-clenched, shot past 
 Lathers' s ear. A quick blow, a plank knocked 
 clear of its fastenings, and a flood of daylight 
 broke in behind Lathers's head ! 
 
 "Now, the next time I come, Pete La- 
 thers," she said firmly, " I '11 miss the plank 
 and take yer face." 
 
 Then she turned, and stalked out of the 
 yard. 
 
 27 
 
Ill 
 
 SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 THE bad weather so long expected finally 
 arrived. An afternoon of soft, warm 
 autumn skies, aglow with the radiance of the 
 setting sun, and brilliant in violet and gold, 
 had been followed by a cold, gray morning. 
 Of a sudden a cloud the size of a hand had 
 mounted clear of the horizon, and called to- 
 gether its fellows. An unseen herald in the 
 east blew a blast, and winds and sea awoke. 
 
 By nine o'clock a gale was blowing. By 
 ten Babcock's men were bracing the outer 
 sheathing of the coffer-dam, strengthening 
 the derrick - guys, tightening the anchor- 
 lines, and clearing the working-platforms of 
 sand, cement, and other damageable prop- 
 erty. The course-masonry, fortunately, was 
 above the water-line, but the coping was still 
 unset and the rubble backing of much of 
 the wall unfinished. Two weeks of constant 
 work were necessary before that part of the 
 28 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 structure contained in the first section of the 
 contract would be entirely safe for the coming 
 winter. Babcock doubled his gangs, and 
 utilized every hour of low water to the utmost, 
 even when the men stood waist-deep. It 
 was his only hope for completing the first 
 section that season. After that would come 
 the cold, freezing the mortar, and ending 
 everything. 
 
 Tom Grogan performed wonders. Not only 
 did she work her teams far into the night, 
 but during all this bad weather she stood 
 throughout the day on the unprotected dock, 
 a man's sou'wester covering her head, a rub- 
 ber waterproof reaching to her feet. She 
 directed every boat-load herself, and rushed 
 the materials to the shovelers, who stood 
 soaking wet in the driving rain. 
 
 Lathers avoided her ; so did McGaw. 
 Everybody else watched her in admiration. 
 Even the commandant, a bluff, gray-bearded 
 naval officer, — a hero of Hampton Roads 
 and Memphis, — passed her on his morning 
 inspection with a kindly look in his face and 
 an aside to Babcock : " Hire some more like 
 her. She is worth a dozen men." 
 
 Not until the final cargo required for the 
 29 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 completion of the wall had been dumped on 
 the platforms did she relax her vigilance. 
 Then she shook the water from her oilskins 
 and started for home. During all these hours 
 of constant strain there was no outbreak of 
 bravado, no spell of ill humor. She made no 
 boasts or promises. With a certain buoyant 
 pluck she stood by the derricks day after day, 
 firing volleys of criticism or encouragement, 
 as best suited the exigencies of the moment, 
 now she sprang forward to catch a sagging 
 bucket, now tended a guy to relieve a man, 
 or handled the teams herself when the line 
 of carts was blocked or stalled. 
 
 Every hour she worked increased Bab- 
 cock's confidence and admiration. He began 
 to feel a certain pride in her, and to a cer- 
 tain extent to rely upon her. Such capacity, 
 endurance, and loyalty were new in his experi- 
 ence. If she owed him anything for her delay 
 on that first cargo, the debt had been amply 
 paid. Yet he saw that no such sense of ob- 
 ligation had influenced her. To her this 
 extra work had been a duty : he was behind- 
 hand with the wall, and anxious ; she would 
 help him out. As to the weather, she reveled 
 in it. The dash of the spray and the driving 
 3° 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 rain only added to her enjoyment. The 
 clatter of rattling buckets and the rhythmic 
 movement of the shovelers keeping time to 
 her orders made a music as dear to her as 
 that of the steady tramp of men and the 
 sound of arms to a division commander. 
 
 Owing to the continued bad weather and 
 the difficulty of shipping small quantities of 
 fuel, the pumping-engines ran out of coal, and 
 a complaint from Babcock's office brought 
 the agent of the coal company to the sea- 
 wall. In times like these Babcock rarely 
 left his work. Once let the Old Man of the 
 Sea, as he knew, get his finger in between 
 the cracks of a coffer-dam, and he would 
 smash the whole into wreckage. 
 
 " I was on my way to see Tom Grogan," 
 said the agent. " I heard you were here, so 
 I stopped to tell you about the coal. There 
 will be a load down in the morning. I am 
 Mr. Crane, of Crane & Co., coal-dealers." 
 
 " You know Mrs. Grogan, then ? " asked 
 Babcock, after the delay in the delivery of 
 the coal had been explained. He had been 
 waiting for some such opportunity to dis- 
 cover more about his stevedore. He never 
 discussed personalities with his men. 
 3 1 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 " Well, I should say so — known her for 
 years. Best woman on top of Staten Island. 
 Does she work for you ? " 
 
 " Yes, and has for some years ; but I must 
 confess I never knew Grogan was a woman 
 until I found her on the dock a few weeks 
 ago, handling a cargo. She works like a 
 machine. How long has she been a widow ?" 
 
 u Well, come to think of it, I don't know 
 that she is a widow. There 's some mystery 
 about the old man, but I never knew what. 
 But that don't count ; she 's good enough as 
 she is, and a hustler, too." 
 
 Crane was something of a hustler himself 
 — one of those busy Americans who opens 
 his daily life with an office-key and closes it 
 with a letter for the late mail. He was a 
 restless, wiry, black-eyed little man, never 
 still for a moment, and perpetually in chase 
 of another eluding dollar, — which half the 
 time he caught. 
 
 Then, laying his hand on Babcock's arm : 
 "And she's square as a brick, too. Some- 
 times when a chunker captain, waiting to 
 unload, shoves a few tons aboard a sneak- 
 boat at night, Tom will spot him every time. 
 They try to fool her into indorsing their 
 32 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 bills of lading in full, but it don't work for a 
 cent." 
 
 "You call her Tom Grogan ? " Babcock 
 asked, with a certain tone in his voice. He 
 resented, somehow, Crane's familiarity. 
 
 " Certainly. Everybody calls her Tom 
 Grogan. It 's her husband's name. Call her 
 anything else, and she don't answer. She 
 seems to glory in it, and after you know her 
 a while you don't want to call her anything 
 else yourself. It comes kind of natural — 
 like your calling a man ' colonel ' or ' judge/ " 
 
 Babcock could not but admit that Crane 
 might be right. All the names which could 
 apply to a woman who had been sweetheart, 
 wife, and mother seemed out of place when 
 he thought of this undaunted spirit who had 
 defied Lathers, and with one blow of her fist 
 sent the splinters of a fence flying about his 
 head. 
 
 " We 've got the year's contract for coal at 
 the fort," continued Crane. " The quarter- 
 master-sergeant who inspects it — Sergeant 
 Duffy — has a friend named McGaw who 
 wants to do the unloading into the govern- 
 ment bins. There 's a low price on the coal, 
 and there 's no margin for anybody ; and if 
 33 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Duffy should kick about the quality of the 
 coal, — and you can't please these fellows if 
 they want to be ugly, — Crane & Co. will be 
 in a hole, and lose money on the contract. I 
 hate to go back on Tom Grogan, but there 's 
 no help for it. The ten cents a ton I *d save 
 if she hauls the coal instead of McGaw 
 would be eaten up in Duffy's short weights 
 and rejections. I sent Sergeant Duffy's letter 
 to her, so she can tell how the land lies, and 
 I 'm going up now to her house to see her, 
 on my way to the fort. I don't know what 
 Duffy will get out of it ; perhaps he gets a 
 few dollars out of the hauling. The coal is 
 shipped, by the way, and ought to be here 
 any minute." 
 
 "Wait; I'll go with you," said Babcock, 
 handing him an order for more coal. " She 
 has n't sent down the tally-sheet for my last 
 scow." There was not the slightest neces- 
 sity, of course, for Babcock to go to Grogan's 
 house for this document. 
 
 As they walked on, Crane talked of every- 
 thing except what was uppermost in Bab- 
 cock's mind. Babcock tried to lead the con- 
 versation back to Tom, but Crane's thoughts 
 were on something else. 
 34 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 When they reached the top of the hill, the 
 noble harbor lay spread out beneath them, 
 from the purple line of the great cities to the 
 silver sheen of the sea inside the narrows. 
 The clearing wind had hauled to the north- 
 west. The sky was heaped with soft clouds 
 floating in the blue. At the base of the hill 
 nestled the buildings and wharves of the 
 Lighthouse Depot, with the unfinished sea- 
 wall running out from the shore, fringed with 
 platforms and bristling with swinging booms 
 — the rings of white steam twirling from the 
 exhaust-pipes. 
 
 On either side of the vast basin lay two 
 grim, silent forts, crouched on grassy slopes 
 like great beasts with claws concealed. Near 
 by, big lazy steamers, sullen and dull, rested 
 motionless at Quarantine, awaiting inspec- 
 tion ; while beyond, white-winged graceful 
 yachts curved tufts of foam from their bows. 
 In the open, elevators rose high as church 
 steeples ; long lines of canal-boats stretched 
 themselves out like huge water-snakes, with 
 hissing tugs for heads ; enormous floats 
 groaned under whole trains of cars ; big, 
 burly lighters drifted slowly with widespread 
 oil-stained sails ; monster derricks towered 
 35 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 aloft, derricks that pick up a hundred-ton gun 
 as easily as an ant does a grain of sand — 
 each floating craft made necessary by some 
 special industry peculiar to the port of New 
 York, and each unlike any other craft in the 
 harbor of any other city of the world. 
 
 Grogan's house and stables lay just over 
 the brow of this hill, in a little hollow. The 
 house was a plain, square frame dwelling, 
 with front and rear verandas, protected by 
 the arching branches of a big sycamore-tree, 
 and surrounded by a small garden filled with 
 flaming dahlias and chrysanthemums. Every- 
 thing about the place was scrupulously neat 
 and clean. 
 
 The stables — there were two — stood on 
 the lower end of the lot. They looked new, 
 or were newly painted in a dark red, and 
 appeared to have accommodations for a num- 
 ber of horses. The stable-yard lay below the 
 house. In its open square were a pump and 
 a horse-trough, at which two horses were 
 drinking. One, the Big Gray, had his collar 
 off, showing where the sweat had discolored 
 the skin, the traces crossed loosely over his 
 back. He was drinking eagerly, and had 
 evidently just come in from work. About, 
 36 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 under the sheds, were dirt-carts tilted for- 
 ward on their shafts, and dust-begrimed har- 
 nesses hanging on wooden pegs. 
 
 A strapping young fellow in a red shirt 
 came out of the stable door leading two other 
 horses to the trough. Babcock looked about 
 him in surprise at the extent of the estab- 
 lishment. He had supposed that his steve- 
 dore had a small outfit and needed all the 
 work she could get. If, as McGaw had said, 
 only boys did Grogan's work, they at least 
 did it well. 
 
 Crane mounted the porch first and knocked. 
 Babcock followed. 
 
 " No, Mr. Crane," said a young girl, open- 
 ing the door, " she 's not at home. I 'm ex- 
 pecting her every minute. Mother went to 
 work early this morning. She '11 be sorry 
 to miss you, sir. She ought to be home 
 now, for she 's been up 'most all night at the 
 fort. She 's just sent Carl up for two more 
 horses. Won't you come in and wait ?" 
 
 " No ; I'll keep on to the fort," answered 
 Crane. " I may meet her on the road." 
 
 " May I come in ? " Babcock asked, explain- 
 ing his business in a few words. 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir. Mother won't be long now. 
 37 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 You 've not forgotten me, Mr. Babcock ? 
 I 'm her daughter Jennie. I was to your 
 office once. Gran'pop, this is the gentleman 
 mother works for." 
 
 An old man rose with some difficulty from 
 an armchair, and bowed in a kindly, defer- 
 ential way. He had been reading near the 
 window. He was in his shirt-sleeves, his col- 
 lar open at the throat. He seemed rather 
 feeble. His legs shook as if he were weak 
 from some recent illness. About the eyes 
 was a certain kindliness that did not escape 
 Babcock's quick glance ; they were clear and 
 honest, and looked straight into his — the 
 kind he liked. The old man's most strik- 
 ing features were his silver-white hair, parted 
 over his forehead and falling to his shoul- 
 ders, and his thin, straight, transparent nose, 
 indicating both ill health and a certain re- 
 finement and sensitiveness of nature. Had 
 it not been for his dress, he might have 
 passed for an English curate on half pay. 
 
 " Me name 's Richard, sor — Richard Mul- 
 lins," said the old man. " I 'm Mary's father. 
 She won't be long gone now. She promised 
 me she 'd be home for dinner." He placed a 
 chair for Babcock, and remained standing. 
 38 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 "I will wait until she returns," said Bab- 
 cock. He had come to discover something 
 more definite about this woman who worked 
 like a steam-engine, crooned over a cripple, 
 and broke a plank with her fist, and he did 
 not intend to leave until he knew. " Your 
 daughter must have had great experience. 
 I have never seen any one man handle work 
 better," he continued, extending his hand. 
 Then, noticing that Mullins was still stand- 
 ing, " Don't let me take your seat." 
 
 Mullins hesitated, glanced at Jennie, and, 
 moving another chair from the window, drew 
 it nearer, and settled slowly beside Babcock. 
 
 The room was as clean as bare arms and 
 scrubbing-brushes could make it. Near the 
 fireplace was a cast-iron stove, and opposite 
 this stood a parlor organ, its top littered with 
 photographs. A few chromos hung on the 
 walls. There were also a big plush sofa and 
 two haircloth rocking-chairs, of walnut, cov- 
 ered with cotton tidies. The carpet on the 
 floor was new, and in the window, where the 
 old man had been sitting, some pots of nas- 
 turtiums were blooming, their tendrils reach- 
 ing up both sides of the sash. Opening 
 from this room was the kitchen, resplendent 
 39 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 in bright pans and a shining copper wash- 
 boiler. The girl passed constantly in and 
 out the open door, spreading the cloth and 
 bringing dishes for the table. 
 
 Her girlish figure was clothed in a blue 
 calico frock and white apron, the sleeves 
 rolled up to the elbows, showing some faint 
 traces of flour clinging to her wrists, as if 
 she had been suddenly summoned from the 
 bread-bowl. She was fresh and sweet, strong 
 and healthy, with a certain grace of manner 
 about her that pleased Babcock instantly. 
 He saw now that she had her mother's eyes 
 and color, but not her air of fearlessness 
 and self-reliance — that kind of self-reliance 
 which comes only of many nights of anxiety 
 and many days of success. He noticed, too, 
 that when she spoke to the old man her 
 voice was tempered with a peculiar tender- 
 ness, as if his infirmities were more to be 
 pitied than complained of. This pleased him 
 most of all. 
 
 "You live with your daughter, Mrs. Gro- 
 gan ? " Babcock asked in a friendly way, turn 
 ing to the old man. 
 
 "Yis, sor. Whin Tom got sick, she sint 
 fer me to come over an' hilp her. I feeds 
 40 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 the horses whin Oi 'm able, an' looks after 
 the garden, but Oi 'm not much good." 
 
 " Is Mr. Thomas Grogan living ? " asked 
 Babcock cautiously, and with a certain tone 
 of respect, hoping to get closer to the facts, 
 and yet not to seem intrusive. 
 
 " Oh, yis, sor : an' moight be dead fer all 
 the good he does. He's in New Yorruk 
 some'er's, on a farm" — lowering his voice 
 to a whisper and looking anxiously toward 
 Jennie — "belonghV to the State, I think, 
 sor. • He 's hurted pretty bad, an' p'haps he 's 
 a leetle off — I dunno. Mary has niver tould 
 me." 
 
 Before Babcock could pursue the inquiry 
 further there was a firm tread on the porch 
 steps, and the old man rose from the chair, 
 his face brightening. 
 
 " Here she is, Gran'pop," said Jennie, lay- 
 ing down her dish and springing to the 
 door. 
 
 " Hold tight, darlint," came a voice from 
 the outside, and the next instant Tom Grogan 
 strode in, her face aglow with laughter, her 
 hood awry, her eyes beaming. Patsy was 
 perched on her shoulder, his little crutch fast 
 in one hand, the other tightly wound about 
 4i 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 her neck. " Let go, darlint ; ye 're a-chokin' 
 the wind out of me. 
 
 "Oh, it's ye a-waitin', Mr. Babcock — me 
 man Carl thought ye 'd gone. Mr. Crane I 
 met outside told me you'd been here. Jen- 
 nie '11 get the tally-sheet of the last load for 
 ye. I 've been to the fort since daylight, 
 and pretty much all night, to tell ye God's 
 truth. Oh, Gran'pop, but I smashed 'em ! " 
 she exclaimed as she gently removed Patsy's 
 arm and laid him in the old man's lap. She 
 had picked the little cripple up at the gar- 
 den gate, where he always waited for her. 
 "That 's the last job that sneakin' Duffy and 
 Dan McGaw '11 ever put up on me. Oh, but 
 ye should 'a' minded the face on him, Gran'- 
 pop ! " — untying her hood and breaking into 
 a laugh so contagious in its mirth that even 
 Babcock joined in without knowing what it 
 was all about. 
 
 As she spoke, Tom stood facing her father, 
 hood and ulster off, the light of the windows 
 silhouetting the splendid lines of her well- 
 rounded figure, with its deep chest, firm bust, 
 broad back, and full throat, her arms swing- 
 ing loose and free. 
 
 "Ye see," she said, turning to Babcock, 
 42 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME. 
 
 "that man Duffy tried to do me, — he's the 
 sergeant at the fort — and Dan McGaw — ye 
 know him — he's the divil that wanted to 
 work for ye. Ye know I always had the 
 hauling of the coal at the fort, an' I want to 
 hold on to it, for it comes every year. I 've 
 been a-watchin' for this coal for a month. 
 Every October there 's a new contractor, and 
 this time it was me friend Mr. Crane I 've 
 worked for before. So I sees Duffy about it 
 the other day, an' he says, ' Well, I think ye 
 better talk to the quartermaster, who 's away, 
 but who '11 be home next week.' An' that 
 night when I got home, there lay a letter 
 from Mr. Crane, wid another letter inside 
 it Sergeant Duffy had sent to Mr. Crane, 
 sayin' he'd recommend Dan McGaw to do 
 the stevedorin' — the sneakin' villain — an' 
 sayin' that he — Duffy — was a-goin' to in- 
 spect the coal himself, an' if his friend Dan 
 McGaw hauled it, the quality would be all 
 right. Think of that ! I tell ye, Mr. Bab- 
 cock, they're divils. Then Mr. Crane put 
 down at the bottom of his letter to me that 
 he was sorry not to give me the job, but that 
 he must give it to Duffy's friend McGaw, or 
 Duffy might reject the coal. Wait till I wash 
 43 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 me hands and I '11 tell ye how I fixed him," 
 she added suddenly, as with a glance at her 
 fingers she disappeared into the kitchen, re- 
 appearing a moment later with her bare arms 
 as fresh and as rosy as her cheeks, from their 
 friction with a clean crash towel. 
 
 "Well!" she continued, "I jumps into 
 me bonnet yisterday, and over I goes to the 
 fort ; an' I up an' says to Duffy, ' I can't wait 
 for the quartermaster. When 's that coal 
 a-comin'?' An' he says, 'In a couple of 
 weeks.' An' I turned onto him and says : 
 * Ye 're a pretty loafer to take the bread out 
 of Tom Grogan's children's mouths ! An' ye 
 want Dan McGaw to do the haulin', do ye ? 
 An' the quality of the coal '11 be all right if 
 he gits it ? An' there 's sure to be twenty- 
 five dollars for ye, won't there ? If I hear a 
 word more out of ye I '11 see Colonel Howard 
 sure, an' hand him this letter.' An' Duffy 
 turned white as a load of lime, and says, 
 6 Don't do it, for God's sake ! It '11 cost me 
 m' place.' While I was a-talkin' I see a 
 chunker-boat with the very coal on it round 
 into the dock with a tug ; an' I ran to the 
 string-piece and catched the line, and has 
 her fast to a spile before the tug lost head- 
 44 
 
.s rf v v 
 
 Til . . . hand him this letter" 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 way. Then I started for home on the run, to 
 get me derricks and stuff. I got home, hooked 
 up by twelve o'clock last night, an' before 
 daylight I had me rig up an' the fall set and 
 the buckets over her hatches. At six o'clock 
 this mornin' I took the teams and was a-run- 
 nin' the coal out of the chunker, when down 
 comes Mr. — Daniel — McGaw with a gang 
 and his big derrick on a cart." She repeated 
 this in a mocking tone, swinging her big 
 shoulders exactly as her rival would have done. 
 "' That's me rig/ I says to him, p'intin' 
 up to the gaff, ' an' me coal, an' I '11 throw 
 the fust man overboard who lays hands on 
 it ! ' An' then the sergeant come out and 
 took McGaw one side an' said somethin' to 
 him, with his back to me ; an' when McGaw 
 turned he was white too, an' without sayin' 
 a • word he turned the team and druv off. 
 An' just now I met Mr. Crane walkin' down, 
 lookin' like he had lost a horse. ' Tom Gro- 
 gan,' he says, ' I hate to disappoint ye, an' 
 would n't, for ye 've always done me work 
 well ; but I 'm stuck on the coal contract, 
 an' the sergeant can put me in a hole if ye 
 do the haulin'.' An' I says, ' Brace up, Mr. 
 Crane, there 's a hole, but ye ain't in it, an* 
 45 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 the sergeant is. I '11 unload every pound of 
 that coal, if I do it for nothin', and if that 
 sneak in striped trousers bothers me or you, 
 I '11 pull him apart an' stamp on him ! ' " 
 
 Through all her talk there was a triumph- 
 ant good humor, a joyousness, a glow and 
 breeziness, which completely fascinated Bab- 
 cock. Although she had been up half the 
 night, she was as sweet and fresh and rosy 
 as a child. Her vitality, her strength, her 
 indomitable energy, impressed him as no 
 woman's had ever done before. 
 
 When she had finished her story she sud- 
 denly caught Patsy out of her father's arms 
 and dropped with him into a chair, all the 
 mother-hunger in her still unsatisfied. She 
 smothered him with kisses and hugged him 
 to her breast, holding his pinched face against 
 her ruddy cheek. Then she smoothed his 
 forehead with her well-shaped hand, and 
 rocked him back and forth. By and by she 
 told him of the stone that the Big Gray had 
 got in his hoof down at the fort that morn- 
 ing, and how lame he had been, and how 
 Cully had taken it out with — a — great — 
 big — spike ! — dwelling on the last words as 
 if they belonged to some wonderful fairy-tale. 
 46 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 The little fellow sat up in her lap and laughed 
 as he patted her breast joyously with his thin 
 hand. " Cully could do it," he shouted in 
 high glee; "Cully can do anything." Bab- 
 cock, apparently, made no more difference to 
 her than if he had been an extra chair. 
 
 As she moved about her rooms afterward, 
 calling to her men from the open door, con- 
 sulting with Jennie, her arms about her 
 neck, or stopping at intervals to croon over 
 her child, she seemed to him to lose all iden- 
 tity with the woman on the dock. The spirit 
 that enveloped her belonged rather to that 
 of some royal dame of heroic times, than to 
 that of a working woman of to-day. The 
 room somehow became her castle, the rough 
 stablemen her knights. 
 
 On his return to his work she walked back 
 with him part of the way. Babcock, still 
 bewildered, and still consumed with curiosity 
 to learn something of her past, led the talk 
 to her life along the docks, expressing his 
 great surprise at discovering her so capable 
 and willing to do a man's work, asking who 
 had taught her, and whether her husband 
 in his time had been equally efficient and 
 strong. 
 
 47 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Instantly she grew reticent. She did not 
 even answer his question. He waited a mo- 
 ment, and, realizing his mistake, turned the 
 conversation in another direction. 
 
 "And how about those rough fellows 
 around the wharves — those who don't know 
 you — are they never coarse and brutal to 
 you ? " 
 
 " Not when I look 'em in the face," she 
 answered slowly and deliberately. " No man 
 ever opens his head, nor dar's n't. When 
 they see me a-comin' they stops talkin', if it 's 
 what they would n't want their daughters 
 to hear ; an' there ain't no dirty back talk, 
 neither. An' I make me own men civil, too, 
 with a dacint tongue in their heads. I had 
 a young strip of a lad once who would be 
 a-swearin' round the stables. I told him to 
 mend his manners or I 'd wash his mouth 
 out, an' that I would n't have nobody hit me 
 horses on the head. He kep' along, an' I see 
 it was a bad example for the other drivers 
 (this was only a year ago, an' I had three 
 of 'em) ; so when he hit the Big Gray ag'in, 
 I hauled off and give him a crack that laid 
 him out. I was scared solid for two hours, 
 though they never knew it." 
 48 
 
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 
 
 Then, with an almost piteous look in her 
 face, and with a sudden burst of confidence, 
 born, doubtless, of a dawning faith in the 
 man's evident sincerity and esteem, she said 
 in a faltering tone : — 
 
 " God help me ! what can I do ? I 've no 
 man to stand by me, an' somebody 's got to 
 be boss." 
 
 49 
 
IV 
 
 A WALKING DELEGATE LEARNS A NEW STEP 
 
 McGAW'S failure to undermine Tom's 
 business with Babcock, and his com- 
 plete discomfiture over Crane's coal contract 
 at the fort, only intensified his hatred of the 
 woman. 
 
 Finding that he could make no headway 
 against her alone, he called upon the Union 
 to assist him, claiming that she was employ- 
 ing non-union labor, and had thus been able 
 to cut down the discharging rates to starva- 
 tion prices. 
 
 A meeting was accordingly called by the 
 executive committee of the Knights, and a 
 resolution passed condemning certain persons 
 in the village of Rockville as traitors to the 
 cause of the workingman. Only one copy of 
 this edict was issued and mailed. This found 
 its way into Tom Grogan's letter-box. Five 
 minutes after she had broken the seal, her 
 5° 
 
A WALKING DELEGATE 
 
 men discovered the document pasted upside 
 down on her stable door. 
 
 McGaw heard of her action that night, and 
 started another line of attack. It was man- 
 aged so skillfully that that which until then 
 had been only a general dissatisfaction on 
 the part of the members of the Union and 
 their sympathizers over Tom's business meth- 
 ods now developed into an avowed deter- 
 mination to crush her. They discussed sev- 
 eral plans by which she could be compelled 
 either to restore rates for unloading, or be 
 forced out of the business altogether. As 
 one result of these deliberations a committee 
 called upon the priest, Father McCluskey, 
 and informed him of the delicate position in 
 which the Union had been placed by her 
 having hidden her husband away, thus for- 
 cing them to fight the woman herself. She 
 was making trouble, they urged, with her low 
 wages and her unloading rates. " Perhaps 
 his Riverence c'u'd straighten her out." 
 
 Father McCluskey's interview with Tom 
 took place in the priest's room one morning 
 after early mass. It had gone abroad, some- 
 how, that his Reverence intended to disci- 
 pline the " high -flyer," and a considerable 
 5' 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 number of the "tenement-house gang," as 
 Tom called them, had loitered behind to 
 watch the effect of the good father's remon- 
 strances. 
 
 What Tom told the priest no one ever 
 knew : such conferences are part of the re- 
 gime of the church, and go no farther. It 
 was noticed, however, as she came down the 
 aisle, that her eyes were red, as if from weep- 
 ing, and that she never raised them from the 
 floor as she passed between her enemies on 
 her way to the church door. Once outside, 
 she put her arm around Jennie, who was wait- 
 ing, and the two strolled slowly across the 
 lots to her house. 
 
 When the priest came out, his own eyes 
 were tinged with moisture. He called Den- 
 nis Quigg, McGaw's right-hand man, and in a 
 voice loud enough to be heard by those near- 
 est him expressed his indignation that any 
 dissension should have arisen among his peo- 
 ple over a woman's work, and said that he 
 would hear no more of this unchristian and 
 unmanly interference with one whose only 
 support came from the labor of her hands. 
 
 McGaw and his friends were not discour- 
 aged. They were only determined upon some 
 52 
 
A WALKING DELEGATE 
 
 more definite stroke. It was therefore or- 
 dered that a committee be appointed to way- 
 lay her men going to work, and inform them 
 of their duty to their fellow-laborers. 
 
 Accordingly, this same Quigg — smooth- 
 shaven, smirking, and hollow-eyed, with a 
 diamond pin, half a yard of watch-chain, and 
 a fancy shirt — ex-village clerk with his ac- 
 counts short, ex -deputy sheriff with his 
 accounts of cruelty and blackmail long, and 
 at present walking delegate of the Union — 
 was appointed a committee of one for that 
 duty. 
 
 Quigg began by begging a ride in one of 
 Tom's return carts, and taking this oppor- 
 tunity to lay before the driver the enormity 
 of working for Grogan for thirty dollars a 
 month and board, when there were a number 
 of his brethren out of work and starving who 
 would not work for less than two dollars a 
 day if it were offered them. It was plainly 
 the driver's duty, Quigg urged, to give up his 
 job until Tom Grogan could be compelled to 
 hire him back at advanced wages. During 
 this enforced idleness the Union would pay 
 the driver fifty cents a day. Here Quigg 
 pounded his chest, clenched his fists, and 
 53 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 said solemnly, " If capital once downs the 
 lab'rin' man, we '11 all be slaves." 
 
 The driver was Carl Nilsson, a Swede, a 
 big, blue-eyed, light-haired young fellow of 
 twenty-two, a sailor from boyhood, who three 
 years before, on a public highway, had been 
 picked up penniless and hungry by Tom 
 Grogan, after the keeper of a sailors' board- 
 ing-house had robbed him of his year's sav- 
 ings. The change from cracking ice from a 
 ship's deck with a marlinespike, to currying 
 and feeding something alive and warm and 
 comfortable, was so delightful to the Swede 
 that he had given up the sea for a while. He 
 had felt that he could ship again at any time, 
 the water was so near. As the months went 
 by, however, he, too, gradually fell under the 
 spell of Tom's influence. She reminded him 
 of the great Norse women he had read about 
 in his boyhood. Besides all this, he was 
 loyal and true to the woman who had be- 
 friended him, and who had so far appreciated 
 his devotion to her interests as to promote 
 him from hostler and driver to foreman of 
 the stables. 
 
 Nilsson knew Quigg by sight, for he had 
 seen him walking home with Jennie from 
 54 
 
A WALKING DELEGATE 
 
 church. His knowledge of English was 
 slight, but it was enough to enable him to 
 comprehend Quigg's purpose as he talked 
 beside him on the cart. After some ques- 
 tions about how long the enforced idleness 
 would continue, he asked suddenly : — 
 
 " Who da horse clean when I go 'way ? " 
 
 " D — n her ! let her clean it herself," Quigg 
 answered angrily. 
 
 This ended the question for Nilsson, and 
 it very nearly ended the delegate. Jumping 
 from the cart, Carl picked up the shovel and 
 sprang toward Quigg, who dodged out of his 
 way, and then took to his heels. 
 
 When Nilsson, still white with anger, 
 reached the dock, he related the incident to 
 Cully, who, on his return home, retailed it to 
 Jennie with such variety of gesture and into- 
 nation that that young lady blushed scarlet, 
 but whether from sympathy for Quigg or 
 admiration for Nilsson, Cully was unable to 
 decide. 
 
 Quigg's failure to coax away one of Tom's 
 men ended active operations against Tom, 
 so far as the Union was concerned. It con- 
 tinued to listen to McGaw's protests, but, 
 with an eye open for its own interests, replied 
 55 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 that if Grogan's men would not be enticed 
 away it could at present take no further ac- 
 tion. His trouble with Tom was an individual 
 matter, and a little patience on McGaw's part 
 was advised. The season's work was over, 
 and nothing of importance could be done 
 until the opening of the spring business. If 
 Tom's men struck now, she would be glad to 
 get rid of them. It would, therefore, be wiser 
 to wait until she could not do without them, 
 when they might all be forced out in a body. 
 In the interim McGaw should direct his 
 efforts to harassing his enemy. Perhaps a 
 word with Slattery, the blacksmith, might 
 induce that worthy brother Knight to refuse 
 to do her shoeing some morning when she 
 was stalled for want of a horse ; or he might 
 let a nail slip in a tender hoof. No one could 
 tell what might happen in the coming months. 
 At the moment the funds of the Union were 
 too low for aggressive measures. Were Mc- 
 Gaw, however, to make a contribution of 
 two hundred dollars to the bank account in 
 order to meet possible emergencies, some- 
 thing might be done. All this was duly 
 inscribed in the books of the committee, 
 — that is, the last part of it, — and upon 
 56 
 
A WALKING DELEGATE 
 
 McGaw's promising to do what he could 
 toward improving the funds. It was there- 
 upon subsequently resolved that before re- 
 sorting to harsher measures the Union should 
 do all in its power toward winning over the 
 enemy. Brother Knight Dennis Quigg was 
 thereupon deputed to call upon Mrs. Grogan 
 and invite her into the Union. 
 
 On brother Knight Dennis Ouigg's declin- 
 ing for private reasons the honorable mission 
 intrusted to him by the honorable board (Mr. 
 Quigg's exact words of refusal, whispered in 
 the chairman's ear, were, " I 'm a-jollyin' one 
 of her kittens ; send somebody else after the 
 old cat "), another walking delegate, brother 
 Knight Crimmins by name, was selected to 
 carry out the gracious action of the com- 
 mittee. 
 
 Crimmins had begun life as a plumber's 
 helper, had been iceman, night-watchman, 
 heeler, and full-fledged plumber ; and having 
 been out of work himself for months at a 
 time, was admirably qualified to speak of the 
 advantages of idleness to any other candidate 
 for like honors. 
 
 He was a small man with a big nose, griz- 
 zled chin-whiskers, and rum-and-watery eyes, 
 57 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 and wore constantly a pair of patched blue 
 overalls as a badge of his laborship. The 
 seat of these outside trousers showed more 
 wear than his hands. 
 
 Immediately upon his appointment, Crim- 
 mins went to McGaw's house to talk over the 
 line of attack. The conference was held in 
 the sitting-room and behind closed doors — 
 so tightly closed that young Billy McGaw, 
 with one eye in mourning from the effect 
 of a recent street fight, was unable, even by 
 the aid of the undamaged eye and the key- 
 hole, to get the slightest inkling of what was 
 going on inside. 
 
 When the door was finally opened and 
 McGaw and Crimmins came out, they brought 
 with them an aroma the pungency of which 
 was explained by two empty glasses and a 
 black bottle decorating one end of the only 
 table in the room. 
 
 As Crimmins stepped down from the 
 broken stoop, with its rusty rain-spout and 
 rotting floor-planks, Billy overheard this part- 
 ing remark from his father : " Thry the ile 
 furst, Crimmy, an' see what she '11 do ; thin 
 give her the vinegar; and thin," with an 
 oath, "ef that don't fetch 'er, come back 
 53 
 
A WALKING DELEGATE 
 
 here to me and we '11 give 'er the red pep- 
 per." 
 
 Brother Knight Crimmins waved his hand 
 to the speaker. "Just leave 'er to me, Dan," 
 he said, and started for Tom's house. Crim- 
 mins was delighted with his mission. He 
 felt sure of bringing back her application 
 within an hour. Nothing ever pleased him 
 so much as to work a poor woman into an 
 agony of fright with threats of the Union. 
 Wives and daughters had often followed him 
 out into the street, begging him to let the 
 men alone for another week until they could 
 pay the rent. Sometimes, when he relented, 
 the more grateful would bless him for his 
 magnanimity. This increased his self-re- 
 spect. 
 
 Tom met him at the door. She had been 
 sitting up with a sick child of Dick Todd, 
 foreman at the brewery, and had just come 
 home. Hardly a week passed without some 
 one in distress sending for her. She had 
 never seen Crimmins before, and thought he 
 had come to mend the roof. His first words, 
 however, betrayed him : — 
 
 " The Knights sent me up to have a word 
 wid ye." 
 
 59 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Tom made a movement as if to shut the 
 door in his face ; then she paused for an 
 instant, and said curtly, " Come inside." 
 
 Crimmins crushed his slouch-hat in his 
 hand, and slunk into a chair by the window. 
 Tom remained standing. 
 
 "I see ye like flowers, Mrs. Grogan," he 
 began, in his gentlest voice. " Them gera- 
 niums is the finest I iver see " — peering 
 under the leaves of the plants. " Guess it 's 
 'cause ye water 'em so much." 
 
 Tom made no reply. 
 
 Crimmins fidgeted on his chair a little, and 
 tried another tack. " I s'pose ye ain't doin' 
 much just now, weather 's so bad. The 
 road 's awful goin' down to the fort." 
 
 Tom's hands were in the side pockets of 
 her ulster. Her face was aglow with her brisk 
 walk from the tenements. She never took 
 her eyes from his face, and never moved a 
 muscle of her body. She was slowly revolv- 
 ing in her mind whether any information she 
 could get out of him would be worth the wait- 
 ing for. 
 
 Crimmins relapsed into silence, and began 
 patting the floor with his foot. The pro- 
 longed stillness was becoming uncomfortable. 
 60 
 
A WALKING DELEGATE 
 
 " I was tellin' ye about the meetin' we had 
 to the Union last night. We was goin' over 
 the list of members, an' we did n't find yer 
 name. The board thought maybe ye 'd like 
 to come in wid us. The dues is only two 
 dollars a month. We 're a-regulatin' the 
 prices for next year, stevedorin' an' haulin', 
 an' the rates '11 be sent out next week." The 
 stopper was now out of the oil-bottle. 
 
 " How many members have ye got ? " she 
 asked quietly. 
 
 " Hundred an' seventy-three in our branch 
 of the Knights." 
 
 " All pay two dollars a month ? " 
 
 "That's about the size of it," said Crim- 
 mins. 
 
 " What do we git when we jine ? " 
 
 "Well, we all pull together — that's one 
 thing. One man's strike 's every man's 
 strike. The capitalists been tryin' to down 
 us, an' the laborin'-man 's got to stand to- 
 gether. Did ye hear about the Fertilizer 
 Company 's layin' off two of our men las' 
 Friday just fer bein' off a day or so without 
 leave, and their gittin' a couple of scabs from 
 Hoboken to " — 
 
 " What else do we git ? " said Tom, in a 
 61 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 quick, imperious tone, ignoring the digres- 
 sion. She had moved a step closer. 
 
 Crimmins looked slyly up into her eyes. 
 Until this moment he had been addressing 
 his remarks to the brass ornament on the 
 extreme top of the cast-iron stove. Tom's 
 expression of face did not reassure him ; in 
 fact, the steady gaze of her clear gray eye 
 was as uncomfortable as the focused light of 
 a sun lens. 
 
 "Well — we help each other," he blurted 
 out. 
 
 " Do you do any helpin' ? " 
 
 " Yis ; " stiffening a little. " I 'm the walkin' 
 delegate of our branch." 
 
 " Oh, ye 're the walkin' delegate ! You 
 don't pay no two dollars, then, do ye ? " 
 
 " No. There 's got to be somebody a-goin' 
 round all the time, an' Dinnis Quigg and 
 me 's confidential agents of the branch, an' 
 zvhat wc says goes" — slapping his overalls 
 decisively with his fist. McGaw's suggested 
 stopper was being loosened on the vinegar. 
 
 Tom's fingers closed tightly. Her collar 
 
 began to feel small. " An' I s'pose if ye said 
 
 I should pay me men double wages, and put 
 
 up the price o' haulin' so high that me cus- 
 
 62 
 
A WALKING DELEGATE 
 
 tomers could n't pay it, so that some of yer 
 dirty loafers could cut in an' git it, I 'd have to 
 do it, whether I wanted to or not ; or maybe 
 ye think I 'd oughter chuck some o' me own 
 boys into the road because they don't belong 
 to yer branch, as ye call it, and git a lot o' 
 dead beats to work in their places who don't 
 know a horse from a coal-bucket. An' ye '11 
 help me, will ye ? Come out here on the 
 front porch, Mr. Crimmins " — opening the 
 door with a jerk. "Do ye see that stable 
 over there ? Well, it covers seven horses ; 
 an' the shed has six carts with all the har- 
 ness. Back of it — perhaps if ye stand on 
 yer toes even a little feller like you can see 
 the top of another shed. That one has me 
 derricks an' tools." 
 
 Crimmins tried to interrupt long enough 
 to free McGaw's red pepper, but her words 
 poured out in a torrent. 
 
 " Now ye can go back an' tell Dan McGaw 
 an' the balance of yer two-dollar loafers that 
 there ain't a dollar owin' on any horse in my 
 stable, an' that I 've earned everything I 've 
 got without a man round to help 'cept those I 
 pays wages to. An' ye can tell 'em, too, that 
 I '11 hire who I please, an' pay 'em what they 
 63 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 oughter git ; an' I '11 do me own haulm* an' 
 unloadin' fer nothin' if it suits me. When 
 ye said ye were a walkin' delegate ye spoke 
 God's truth. Ye 'd be a ridin' delegate if ye 
 could ; but there 's one thing ye '11 niver be, 
 an' that 's a workin' delegate, as long as ye 
 kin find fools to pay ye wages fer bummin' 
 round day 'n' night. If I had me way, ye 
 zvould walk, but it would be on yer uppers, 
 wid yer bare feet to the road." 
 
 Crimmins again attempted to speak, but 
 she raised her arm threateningly : " Now, if 
 it 's walkin* ye are, ye can begin right away. 
 Let me see ye earn yer wages down that 
 garden an' into the road. Come, lively now, 
 before I disgrace meself a-layin' hands on 
 the likes of ye ! " 
 
 64 
 
A WORD FROM THE TENEMENTS 
 
 ONE morning Patsy came up the garden 
 path limping on his crutch ; the little 
 fellow's eyes were full of tears. He had 
 been out with his goat when some children 
 from the tenements surrounded his cart, 
 pitched it into the ditch, and followed him 
 half way home, calling " Scab ! scab ! " at the 
 top of their voices. 
 
 Cully heard his cries, and ran through the 
 yard to meet him, his anger rising at every 
 step. To lay hands on Patsy was, to Cully, 
 the unpardonable sin. Ever since the day, 
 five years before, when Tom had taken him 
 into her employ, a homeless waif of the 
 streets, — his father had been drowned from 
 a canal-boat she was unloading, — and had 
 set him down beside Patsy's crib to watch 
 while she was at her work, Jennie being at 
 school, Cully had loved the little cripple 
 with the devotion of a dog to its master. 
 65 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Lawless, rough, often cruel, and sometimes 
 vindictive as Cully was to others, a word 
 from Patsy humbled and softened him. 
 
 And Patsy loved Cully. His big, broad 
 chest, stout, straight legs, strong arms and 
 hands, were his admiration and constant 
 pride. Cully was his champion and his ideal. 
 The waifs recklessness and audacity were to 
 him only evidences of so much brains and 
 energy. 
 
 This love between the lads grew stronger 
 after Tom had sent to Dublin for her old 
 father, that she might have "a man about 
 the house." Then a new blessing came, not 
 only into the lives of both the lads, but into 
 the whole household as well. Mullins, in 
 his later years, had been a dependent about 
 Trinity College, and constant association 
 with books and students had given him a 
 taste for knowledge denied his daughter. 
 Tom had left home when a girl. In the long 
 winter nights during the slack season, after 
 the stalls were bedded and the horses were 
 fed and watered and locked up for the night, 
 the old man would draw up his chair to the 
 big kerosene lamp on the table, and tell the 
 boys stories — they listening with wide-open 
 66 
 
A WORD FROM THE TENEMENTS 
 
 eyes, Cully interrupting the narrative every 
 now and then by such asides as " No flies on 
 them fellers, wuz ther', Patsy? They wuz 
 daisies, they wuz. Go on, Pop ; it 's bet- 
 ter 'n a circus;" while Patsy would cheer 
 aloud at the downfall of the vanquished, with 
 their "three thousand lance-bearers put to 
 death by the sword," waving his crutch over 
 his head in his enthusiasm. 
 
 Jennie would come in too, and sit by her 
 mother ; and after Nilsson's encounter with 
 Quigg — an incident which greatly advanced 
 him in Tom's estimation — Cully would be 
 sent to bring him in from his room over the 
 stable and give him a chair with the others, 
 that he might learn the language easier. 
 At these times it was delightful to watch the 
 expression of pride and happiness that would 
 come over Tom's face as she listened to her 
 father's talk. 
 
 " But ye have a great head, Gran'pop," she 
 would say. " Cully, ye blatherin' idiot, why 
 don't ye brace up an' git some knowledge in 
 yer head ? Sure, Gran'pop, Father McClus- 
 key ain't in it wid ye a minute. Ye could 
 down the whole gang of 'em." And the old 
 man would smile faintly and say he had 
 67 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 heard the young gentlemen at the college 
 recite the stories so many times he could 
 never forget them. 
 
 In this way the boys grew closer together, 
 Patsy cramming himself from books during 
 the day in order to tell Cully at night all 
 about the Forty Thieves boiled in oil, or Ali 
 Baba and his donkey, or poor man Friday to 
 whom Robinson Crusoe was so kind ; and 
 Cully relating in return how Jimrr.ie Finn 
 smashed Pat Gilsey's face because he threw 
 stones at his sister, ending with a full account 
 of a dog-fight which a " snoozer of a cop " 
 stopped with his club. 
 
 So when Patsy came limping up the garden 
 path this morning, rubbing his eyes, his voice 
 choking, and the tears streaming, and, bury- 
 ing his little face in Cully's jacket, poured out 
 his tale of insult and suffering, that valiant 
 defender of the right pulled his cap tight over 
 his eyes and began a still-hunt through the 
 tenements. There, as he afterwards expressed 
 it, he " mopped up the floor" with one after 
 another of the ringleaders, beginning with 
 young Billy McGaw, Dan's eldest son and 
 Cully's senior. 
 
 Tom was dumfounded at the attack on 
 68 
 
A WORD FROM THE TENEMENTS 
 
 Patsy. This was a blow upon which she had 
 not counted. To strike her Patsy, her crip- 
 ple, her baby ! The cowardice of it incensed 
 her. She knew instantly that her affairs 
 must have been common talk about the 
 tenements to have produced so great an 
 effect upon the children. She felt sure that 
 their fathers and mothers had encouraged 
 them in it. 
 
 In emergencies like this it was never to 
 the old father that she turned. He was too 
 feeble, too much a thing of the past. While 
 to a certain extent he influenced her life, 
 standing always for the right and always for 
 the kindest thing she could do, yet when it 
 came to times of action and danger she felt 
 the need of a younger and more vigorous 
 mind. It was on Jennie, really more her 
 companion than her daughter, that she de- 
 pended for counsel and sympathy at these 
 times. 
 
 Tom did not underestimate the gravity of 
 the situation. Up to that point in her career 
 she had fought only the cold, the heat, the 
 many weary hours of labor far into the night, 
 and now and then some man like McGaw. 
 But this stab from out the dark was a danger 
 69 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 to which she was unused. She saw in this 
 last move of McGaw's, aided as he was by the 
 Union, not only a determination to ruin her, 
 but a plan to divide her business among a set 
 of men who hated her as much on account of 
 her success as for anything else. A few more 
 horses and carts and another barn or two, and 
 she herself would become a hated capitalist. 
 That she had stood out in the wet and cold 
 herself, hours at a time, like any man among 
 them ; that she had, in her husband's early 
 days, helped him feed and bed their one horse, 
 often currying him herself ; that when she 
 and her Tom had moved to Rockville with 
 their savings and there were three horses to 
 care for and her husband needed more help 
 than he could hire, she had brought her little 
 baby Patsy to the stable while she worked 
 there like a man ; that during all this time 
 she had cooked and washed and kept the 
 house tidy for four people ; that she had done 
 all these things she felt would not count now 
 with the Union, though each member of it 
 was a bread-winner like herself. 
 
 She knew what power it wielded. There 
 had been the Martin family, honest, hard- 
 working people, who had come down from 
 70 
 
A WORD FROM THE TENEMENTS 
 
 Haverstraw — the man and wife and their 
 three children — and moved into the new ten- 
 ement with all their nice furniture and new 
 carpets. Tom had helped them unload these 
 things from the brick-sloop that brought 
 them. A few weeks after, poor Martin, still 
 almost a stranger, had been brought home 
 from the gas-house with his head laid open, 
 because he had taken the place of a Union 
 man discharged for drunkenness, and lingered 
 for weeks until he died. Then the widow, 
 with her children about her, had been put 
 aboard another sloop that was going back to 
 her old home. Tom remembered, as if it 
 were yesterday, the heap of furniture and 
 little pile of kitchen things sold under the 
 red flag outside the store near the post-office. 
 She had seen, too, the suffering and misery 
 of her neighbors during the long strike at the 
 brewery two years before, and the moving in 
 and out from house to tenement and tene- 
 ment to shanty, with never a day's work after- 
 ward for any man who left his job. She had 
 helped many of the men who, three years 
 before, had been driven out of work by the 
 majority vote of the Carpenters' Union, and 
 who dared not go back and face the terrible 
 
 7i 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 excommunication, the social boycott, with all 
 its insults and cruelties. She shuddered as 
 she thought again of her suspicions years ago 
 when the bucket had fallen that crushed in 
 her husband's chest, and sent him to bed for 
 months, only to leave it a wrecked man. The 
 rope that held the bucket had been burned 
 by acid, Dr. Mason said. Some grudge of 
 the Union, she had always felt, was paid off 
 then. 
 
 She knew what the present trouble meant, 
 now that it was started, and she knew in what 
 it might end. But her courage never wavered. 
 She ran over in her mind the names of the 
 several men who were fighting her — McGaw, 
 for whom she had a contempt ; Dempsey and 
 Jimmie Brown, of the executive committee, 
 both liquor-dealers ; Paterson, foreman of the 
 gas-house ; and the rest — dangerous enemies, 
 she knew. 
 
 That night she sent for Nilsson to come to 
 the house ; heard from him, word for word, 
 of Quigg's effort to corrupt him ; questioned 
 Patsy closely, getting the names of the chil- 
 dren who had abused him ; then calling 
 Jennie into her bedroom, she locked the 
 door behind them. 
 
A WORD FROM THE TENEMENTS 
 
 When they reentered the sitting-room, an 
 hour later, Jennie's lips were quivering. 
 Tom's mouth was firmly set. Her mind 
 was made up. 
 
 She would fight it out to the bitter end 
 73 
 
VI 
 
 THE BIG GRAY GOES HUNGRY 
 
 THAT invincible spirit which dwelt in 
 Tom's breast — that spirit which had 
 dared Lathers, outwitted Duffy, cowed Crim- 
 mins, and braved the Union, did not, strange 
 to say, dominate all the members of her own 
 household. One defied her. This was no 
 other than that despoiler of new -washed 
 clothes, old harness, wagon -grease, time- 
 books, and spring flowers, that Arab of the 
 open lot, Stumpy the goat. 
 
 This supremacy of the goat had lasted 
 since the eventful morning when, only a kid 
 of tender days, he had come into the stable- 
 yard and wobbled about on his uncertain 
 legs, nestling down near the door where 
 Patsy lay. During all these years he had 
 ruled over Tom. At first because his fuzzy 
 white back and soft, silky legs had been so 
 precious to the little cripple, and later be- 
 cause of his inexhaustible energy, his aggres- 
 74 
 
THE BIG GRAY GOES HUNGRY 
 
 siveness, and his marvelous activity. Brave 
 spirits have fainted at the sight of spiders, 
 others have turned pale at lizards, and some 
 have shivered when cats crossed their paths. 
 The only thing Tom feared on any num- 
 ber of legs, from centipedes to men, was 
 Stumpy. 
 
 " Git out, ye imp of Satan ! " she would 
 say, raising her hand when he wandered too 
 near ; " or I '11 smash ye ! " The next instant 
 she would be dodging behind the cart out of 
 the way of Stumpy's lowered horns, with a 
 scream as natural and as uncontrollable as 
 that of a schoolgirl over a mouse. When he 
 stood in the path cleared of snow from house 
 to stable door, with head down, prepared to 
 dispute every inch of the way with her, she 
 would tramp yards around him, up to her 
 knees in the drift, rather than face his ob- 
 stinate front. 
 
 The basest of ingratitude actuated the 
 goat. When the accident occurred that 
 gained him his sobriquet and lost him his 
 tail, it was Tom's quickness of hand alone 
 that saved the remainder of his kidship from 
 disappearing as his tail had done. Indeed, 
 she not only choked the dog who attacked 
 75 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 him, until he loosened his hold from want of 
 breath, but she threw him over the stable- 
 yard fence as an additional mark of her dis- 
 pleasure. 
 
 In spite of her fear of him, Tom never 
 dispossessed Stumpy. That her Patsy loved 
 him insured him his place for life. 
 
 So Stumpy roamed through yard, kitchen, 
 and stable, stalking over bleaching sheets, 
 burglarizing the garden gate, and grazing 
 wherever he chose. 
 
 The goat inspired no fear in anybody else. 
 Jennie would chase him out of her way a 
 dozen times a day, and Cully would play bull- 
 fight with him, and Carl and the other men 
 would accord him his proper place, spanking 
 him with the flat of a shovel whenever he 
 interfered with their daily duties, or shying 
 a corn-cob after him when his alertness car- 
 ried him out of their reach. 
 
 This afternoon Jennie had missed her blue- 
 checked apron. It had been drying on the 
 line outside the kitchen door five minutes 
 before. There was no one at home but her- 
 self, and she had seen nobody pass the door. 
 Perhaps the apron had blown over into the 
 stable-yard. If it had, Carl would be sure 
 76 
 
THE BIG GRAY GOES HUNGRY 
 
 to have seen it. She knew Carl had come 
 home ; she had been watching for him 
 through the window. Then she ran in for 
 her shawl. 
 
 Carl was rubbing down the Big Gray. He 
 had been hauling ice all the morning for the 
 brewery. The Gray was under the cart- 
 shed, a flood of winter sunlight silvering his 
 shaggy mane and restless ears. The Swede 
 was scraping his sides with the currycomb, 
 and the Big Gray, accustomed to Cully's gen- 
 tler touch, was resenting the familiarity by 
 biting at the tippet wound about the neck of 
 the young man. 
 
 Suddenly Carl raised his head — he had 
 caught a glimpse of a flying apron whipping 
 round the stable door. He knew the pattern. 
 It always gave him a lump in his throat, and 
 some little creepings down his back when he 
 saw it. Then he laid down the currycomb. 
 The next instant there came a sound as of a 
 barrel-head knocked in by a mixing-shovel, 
 and Stumpy flew through the door, followed 
 by Carl on the run. The familiar bit of calico 
 was Jennie's lost apron. One half was inside 
 the goat, the other half was in the hand of 
 the Swede. 
 
 77 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Carl hesitated for a moment, looked cau- 
 tiously about the yard, and walked slowly 
 toward the house, his eyes on the fragments. 
 He never went to the house except when he 
 was invited, either to hear Pop read or to 
 take his dinner with the other men. At this 
 instant Jennie came running out, the shawl 
 about her head. 
 
 " Oh, Carl, did you find my apron ? It 
 blew away, and I thought it might have gone 
 into the yard." 
 
 " Yas, mees ; an' da goat see it too — 
 luke ! " extending the tattered fragments, 
 anger and sorrow struggling for the mastery 
 in his face. 
 
 " Well, I never ! Carl, it was a bran'-new 
 one. Now just see, all the strings torn off 
 and the top gone ! I 'm just going to give 
 Stumpy a good beating." 
 
 Carl suggested that he run after the goat 
 and bring him back ; but Jennie thought he 
 was down the road by this time, and Carl had 
 been working all the morning and must be 
 tired. Besides, she must get some wood. 
 
 Carl instantly forgot the goat. He had 
 forgotten everything, indeed, except the trim 
 little body who stood before him looking into 
 7* 
 
THE BIG GRAY GOES HUNGRY 
 
 his eyes. He glowed all over with inward 
 warmth and delight. Nobody had ever cared 
 before whether he was tired. When he was 
 a little fellow at home at Memlo his mother 
 would sometimes worry about his lifting the 
 big baskets of fish all day, but he could not 
 remember that anybody else had ever given 
 his feelings a thought. All this flashed 
 through his mind as he returned Jennie's 
 look. 
 
 " No, no ! I not tire — I brang da wood." 
 And then Jennie said she never meant it, and 
 Carl knew she did n't, of course ; and then 
 she said she had never thought of such a 
 thing, and he agreed to that ; and they talked 
 so long over it, standing out in the radiance 
 of the noonday sun, the color coming and 
 going in both their faces, — Carl playing aim- 
 lessly with his tippet tassel, and Jennie plait- 
 ing and pinching up the ruined apron, — that 
 the fire in the kitchen stove went out, and 
 the Big Gray grew hungry and craned his 
 long neck around the shed and whinnied for 
 Carl, and even Stumpy the goat forgot his 
 hair - breadth escape, and returned near 
 enough to the scene of the robbery to look 
 down at it from the hill above. 
 79 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 There is no telling how long the Big Gray 
 would have waited if Cully had not come 
 home to dinner, bringing another horse with 
 Patsy perched on his back. The brewery 
 was only a short distance, and Tom always 
 gave her men a hot meal at the house when- 
 ever it was possible. Had any other horse 
 been neglected, Cully would not have cared ; 
 but the Big Gray which he had driven ever 
 since the day Tom brought him home, — 
 " Old Blowhard," as he would often call him 
 (the Gray was a bit wheezy), — the Big Gray 
 without his dinner ! 
 
 " Hully gee ! Look at de bloke a-jollying 
 Jinnie, an' de Blowhard a-starvin'. Say, 
 Patsy," — lifting him down, — "hold de line 
 till I git de Big Gray a bite. Git on ter Carl, 
 will ye! I'm a-goin' — ter — tell — de — 
 boss," — with a threatening air, weighing 
 each word — " jes soon as she gits back. Ef 
 I don't I 'm a chump." 
 
 At sight of the boys, Jennie darted into 
 the house, and Carl started for the stable, 
 his head in the clouds, his feet on air. 
 
 " No ; I feed da horse, Cully," — jerking at 
 his halter to get him away from Cully. 
 
 " A hell ov'er lot ye will ! I '11 feed him 
 80 
 
THE BIG GRAY GOES HUNGRY 
 
 meself. He 's been home an hour now, an' 
 he ain't half rubbed down." 
 
 Carl made a grab for Cully, who dodged 
 and ran under the cart. Then a lump of ice 
 whizzed past Carl's ear. 
 
 " Here, stop that ! " said Tom, entering the 
 gate. She had been in the city all the morn- 
 ing — "to look after her poor Tom," Pop 
 said. " Don't ye be throwing things round 
 here, or I '11 land on top of ye." 
 
 " Well, why don't he feed de Gray, den ? 
 He started afore me, and dey wants de Gray 
 down ter de brewery, and he up ter de house 
 a-buzzin' Jinnie." 
 
 " I go brang Mees Jan's apron ; da goat eat 
 it oop." 
 
 " Ye did, did ye ! What ye givin' us ? 
 Did n't I see ye a-chinnin' 'er whin I come 
 over de hill — she a-leanin' up ag'in' de fence, 
 an' youse a-talkin' ter 'er, an' ole Blowhard 
 cryin' like his heart was broke ? " 
 
 " Eat up what apron ? " said Tom, thor- 
 oughly mystified over the situation. 
 
 " Stumpy eat da apron — I brang back da 
 half ta Mees Jan." 
 
 " An' it took ye all the mornin' to give it 
 to her ? " said Tom thoughtfully, looking 
 81 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Carl straight in the eye, a new vista opening 
 before her. 
 
 That night when the circle gathered about 
 the lamp to hear Pop read, Carl was missing, 
 Tom had not sent for him. 
 82 
 
vn 
 
 THE CONTENTS OF CULLY'S MAIL 
 
 WHEN Walking Delegate Crimmins had 
 recovered from his amazement, after 
 his humiliating defeat at Tom's hands, he 
 stood irresolute for a moment outside her 
 garden gate, indulged at some length in a 
 form of profanity peculiar to his class, and 
 then walked direct to McGaw's house. 
 
 That worthy Knight met him at the door. 
 He had been waiting for him. 
 
 Young Billy McGaw also saw Crimmins 
 enter the gate, and promptly hid himself 
 under the broken-down steps. He hoped to 
 overhear what was going on when the two 
 went out again. Young Billy's inordinate 
 curiosity was quite natural. He had heard 
 enough of the current talk about the tene- 
 ments and open lots to know that something 
 of a revengeful and retaliatory nature against 
 the Grogans was in the air ; but as nobody 
 who knew the exact details had confided them 
 33 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 to him, he had determined upon an investi- 
 gation of his own. He not only hated Cully, 
 but the whole Grogan household, for the 
 pounding he had received at his hands, so he 
 was anxious to get even in some way. 
 
 After McGaw had locked both doors, shut- 
 ting out his wife and little Jack, their young- 
 est, he took a bottle from the shelf, filled two 
 half-tumblers, and squaring himself in his 
 chair, said : — 
 
 " Did ye see her, Crimmy ? " 
 
 " I did," replied Crimmins, swallowing the 
 whiskey at a gulp. 
 
 " An' she '11 come in wid us, will she ? " 
 
 " She will, will she ? She '11 come in nothin'. 
 I jollied her about her flowers, and thought 
 I had her dead ter rights, when she up an' 
 asked me what we was a-goin' to do for her if 
 she jined, an' afore I could tell her she opens 
 the front door and gives me the dead cold." 
 
 " Fired ye ? " exclaimed McGaw incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 " I 'm givin' it to ye straight, Dan ; an' she 
 pulled a gun on me, too," — telling the lie 
 with perfect composure. " That woman 's no 
 slouch, or I don't know 'em. One thing ye 
 can bet yer bottom dollar on — all h — can't 
 84 
 
THE CONTENTS OF CULLY'S MAIL 
 
 scare her. We Ve got to try some other 
 way," 
 
 It was the peculiarly fertile quality of 
 Crimmins's imagination that made him so 
 valuable to some of his friends. 
 
 When the conspirators reached the door, 
 neither Crimmins nor his father was in a 
 talkative mood, and Billy heard nothing. 
 They lingered a moment on the sill, within 
 a foot of his head as he lay in a cramped 
 position below, and then they sauntered out, 
 his father bareheaded, to the stable - yard. 
 There McGaw leaned upon a cart-wheel, 
 listening dejectedly to Crimmins, who seemed 
 to be outlining a plan of some kind, which 
 at intervals lightened the gloom of McGaw's 
 despair, judging from the expression of his 
 father's face. Then he turned hurriedly to 
 the house, cursed his wife because he could 
 not find his big fur cap, and started across to 
 the village. Billy followed, keeping a safe 
 distance behind. 
 
 Tom after Patsy's sad experience forbade 
 him the streets, and never allowed him out of 
 her sight unless Cully or her father were with 
 him. She knew a storm was gathering, and 
 she was watching the clouds and waiting 
 85 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 for the first patter of rain. When it came 
 she intended that every one of her people 
 should be under cover. She had sent for 
 Carl and her two stablemen, and told them 
 that if they were dissatisfied in any way she 
 wanted to know it at once. If the wages she 
 was paying were not enough, she was willing 
 to raise them, but she wanted them distinctly 
 to understand that as she had built up the 
 business herself, she was the only one who had 
 a right to manage it, adding that she would 
 rather clean and drive the horses herself than 
 be dictated to by any person outside. She 
 said that she saw trouble brewing, and knew 
 that her men would feel it first. They must 
 look out for themselves coming home late 
 at night. At the brewery strike, two years 
 before, hardly a day passed that some of the 
 non-union men were not beaten into insensi- 
 bility. 
 
 That night Carl came back again to the 
 porch door, and in his quiet, earnest way said : 
 "We have t'ink 'bout da Union. Da men 
 not go — not laik da union man. We not 
 'fraid " — tapping his hip-pocket, where, sailor- 
 like, he always carried his knife sheathed in 
 a leather case. 
 
 86 
 
THE CONTENTS OF CULLY'S MAIL 
 
 Tom's eyes kindled as she looked into his 
 manly face. She loved pluck and grit. She 
 knew the color of the blood running in this 
 young fellow's veins. 
 
 Week after week passed, and though now 
 and then she caught the mutterings of dis- 
 tant thunder, as Cully or some of the others 
 overheard a remark on the ferry-boat or about 
 the post-office, no other signs of the threat- 
 ened storm were visible. 
 
 Then it broke. 
 
 One morning an important-looking envelope 
 lay in her letter-box. It was long and puffy, 
 and was stamped in the upper corner with a 
 picture of a brewery in full operation. One 
 end bore an inscription addressed to the 
 postmaster, stating that in case Mr. Thomas 
 Grogan was not found within ten days, it 
 should be returned to Schwartz & Co., Brew- 
 ers. 
 
 The village post-office had several other 
 letter-boxes, faced with glass, so that the con- 
 tents of each could be seen from the outside. 
 Two of these contained similar envelopes, 
 looking equally important, one being ad- 
 dressed to McGaw. 
 
 When he had called for his mail, the close 
 87 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 resemblance between the two envelopes seen 
 in the letter-boxes set McGaw to thinking. 
 Actual scrutiny through the glass revealed 
 the picture of the brewery on each. He knew 
 then that Tom had been asked to bid for the 
 brewery hauling. That night a special meet- 
 ing of the Union was called at eight o'clock. 
 Quigg, Crimmins, and McGaw signed the 
 call. 
 
 " Hully gee, what a wad ! " said Cully, when 
 the postmaster passed Tom's big letter out 
 to him. One of Cully's duties was to go for 
 the mail. 
 
 When Pop broke the seal in Tom's pres- 
 ence, — one of Pop's duties was to open what 
 Cully brought, — out dropped a type-written 
 sheet notifying Mr. Thomas Grogan that 
 sealed proposals would be received up to 
 March ist for "unloading, hauling, and deliv- 
 ering to the bins of the Eagle Brewery " so 
 many tons of coal and malt, together with 
 such supplies, etc. There were also blank 
 forms in duplicate to be duly filled up with 
 the price and signature of the bidder. This 
 contract was given out once a year. Twice 
 before it had been awarded to Thomas Gro- 
 gan. The year before a man from Stapleton 
 88 
 
THE CONTENTS OF CULLY'S MAIL 
 
 had bid lowest, and had done the work. Mc- 
 Gaw and his friends complained that it took 
 the bread out of Rockville's mouth ; but as 
 the bidder belonged to the Union, no protest 
 could be made. 
 
 The morning after the meeting of the 
 Union, McGaw went to New York by the 
 early boat. He carried a letter from Pete 
 Lathers, the yardmaster, to Crane & Co., of 
 so potent a character that the coal-dealers 
 agreed to lend McGaw five hundred dollars 
 on his three-months' note, taking a chattel 
 mortgage on his teams and carts as security, 
 the money to be paid McGaw as soon as the 
 papers were drawn. McGaw, in return, was 
 to use his "pull" to get a permit from the 
 village trustees for the free use of the village 
 dock by Crane & Co. for discharging their 
 Rockville coal. This would save Crane half 
 a mile to haul. It was this promise made 
 by McGaw which really turned the scale in 
 his favor. To hustle successfully it was often 
 necessary for Crane to cut some sharp cor- 
 ners. 
 
 This dock, as McGaw knew perfectly well, 
 had been leased to another party — the Fer- 
 tilizing Company — for two years, and could 
 8 9 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 not possibly be placed at Crane's disposal. 
 But he said nothing of this to Crane. 
 
 When the day of payment to McGaw ar- 
 rived, Dempsey of the executive committee 
 and Walking Delegate Quigg met McGaw at 
 the ferry on his return from New York. 
 McGaw had Crane's money in his pocket. 
 That night he paid two hundred dollars into 
 the Union, two hundred to his feed-man on 
 an account long overdue, and the balance to 
 Quigg in a poker game in the back room 
 over O'Leary's bar. 
 
 Tom also had an interview with Mr. Crane 
 shortly after his interview with McGaw. 
 Something she said about the dock having 
 been leased to the Fertilizing Company caused 
 Crane to leave his chair in a hurry, and ask 
 his clerk in an angry voice if McGaw had yet 
 been paid the money on his chattel mortgage. 
 When his cashier showed him the stub of 
 the check, dated two days before, Crane 
 slammed the door behind him, his teeth set 
 tight, little puffs of profanity escaping be- 
 tween the openings. As he walked with 
 Tom to the door, he said : — 
 
 " Send your papers up, Tom. I '11 go bond 
 any day in the year for you, and for any 
 90 
 
THE CONTENTS OF CULLY'S MAIL 
 
 amount ; but I '11 get even with McGaw for 
 that lie he told me about the dock, if it takes 
 my bank account." 
 
 The annual hauling contract for the brew- 
 ery, which had become an important one in 
 Rockville, its business having nearly doubled 
 in the last few years, was of special value to 
 Tom at this time, and she determined to 
 make every effort to secure it. 
 
 Pop filled up the proposal in his round, 
 clear hand, and Tom signed it, " Thomas 
 Grogan, Rockville, Staten Island." Then 
 Pop witnessed it, and Mr. Crane, a few days 
 later, duly inscribed the firm's name under 
 the clause reserved for bondsmen. After 
 that Tom brought the bid home, and laid it 
 on the shelf over her bed. 
 
 Everything was now ready for the fight. 
 
 The bids were to be opened at noon in the 
 office of the brewery. 
 
 By eleven o'clock the hangers-on and idlers 
 began to lounge into the big yard paved with 
 cobblestones. At half past eleven McGaw 
 got out of a buggy, accompanied by Quigg. 
 At a quarter to twelve Tom, in her hood and 
 ulster, walked rapidly through the gate, and, 
 without as much as a look at the men gath- 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 ered about the office door, pushed her way 
 into the room. Then she picked up a chair 
 and, placing it against the wall, sat down. 
 Sticking out of the breast pocket of her ulster 
 was the big envelope containing her bid. 
 
 Five minutes before the hour the men be- 
 gan filing in one by one, awkwardly uncover- 
 ing their heads, and standing in one another's 
 way. Some, using their hats as screens, 
 looked over the rims. When the bids were 
 being gathered up by the clerk, Dennis 
 Quigg handed over McGaw's. The ease 
 with which Dan had raised the money on 
 his notes had invested that gentleman with 
 some of the dignity and attributes of a capi- 
 talist : the hired buggy and the obsequious 
 Quigg indicated this. His new position was 
 strengthened by the liberal way in which he 
 had portioned out his possessions to the 
 workingman. It was further sustained by 
 the hope that he might perhaps repeat his 
 generosities in the near future. 
 
 At twelve o'clock precisely Mr. Schwartz, 
 a round, bullet-headed German, entered the 
 room, turned his revolving-chair, and began 
 to cut the six envelopes heaped up before him 
 on his desk, reading the prices aloud as he 
 92 
 
THE CONTENTS OF CULLY'S MAIL 
 
 opened them in succession, the clerk record- 
 ing. The first four were from parties in out- 
 side villages. Then came McGaw's : — 
 
 "Forty-nine cents for coal, etc." 
 
 So far he was lowest. Quigg twisted his 
 hat nervously, and McGaw's coarse face grew 
 red and white by turns. 
 
 Tom's bid was the last. 
 
 "Thomas Grogan, Rockville, S. I., thirty- 
 eight cents for coal, etc." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Mr. Schwartz, quietly, 
 "Thomas Grogan gets the hauling." 
 93 
 
VIII 
 
 POP MULLINS'S ADVICE 
 
 ALMOST every man and woman in the 
 tenement district knew Oscar 
 Schwartz, and had felt the power of his ob- 
 stinate hand during the long strike of two 
 years before, when, the Union having de- 
 clared war, Schwartz had closed the brewery 
 for several months rather than submit to its 
 dictation. The news, therefore, that the 
 Union had called a meeting and appointed 
 a committee to wait on Mr. Schwartz, to pro- 
 test against his giving work to a non-union 
 woman filled them with alarm. The women 
 remembered the privations and suffering of 
 that winter, and the three dollars a week 
 doled out to them by the Central Branch, 
 while their husbands, who had been earning 
 two and three dollars a day, were drinking 
 at O'Leary's bar, playing cards, or listening 
 to the encouraging talk of the delegates who 
 came from New York to keep up their spir- 
 94 
 
POP MULLINS'S ADVICE 
 
 its. The brewery employed a larger number 
 of men than any other concern in Rockville, 
 so trouble with its employees meant serious 
 trouble for half the village if Schwartz defied 
 the Union and selected a non-union woman 
 to do the work. 
 
 They knew, too, something of the indomit- 
 able pluck and endurance of Tom Grogan. 
 If she were lowest on the bids, she would 
 fight for the contract, they felt sure, if it 
 took her last dollar. McGaw was a fool, 
 they said, to bid so high ; he might have 
 known she would cut his throat, and bring 
 them no end of trouble. 
 
 Having nursed their resentment, and need- 
 ing a common object for their wrath, the 
 women broke out against Tom. Many of 
 them had disliked her ever since the day, 
 years ago, when she had been seen carrying 
 her injured husband away at night to the 
 hospital, after months of nursing at home. 
 And the most envious had always maintained 
 that she meant at the time to put him away 
 forever where no one could find him, so that 
 she might play the man herself. 
 
 " Why should she be a-comin' in an' a-rob- 
 bin' us of our pay ? " muttered a coarse, red- 
 95 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 faced virago, her hair in a frowse about her 
 head, her slatternly dress open at the throat. 
 " Oi '11 be one to go an' pull her off the dock 
 and jump on her. What 's she a-doin', any- 
 how, puttin' down prices ? Ef her ole man 
 had a leg to walk on, instid of his lyin' to-day 
 a cripple in the hospital, he 'd be back and be 
 a-runnin' things." 
 
 " She 's doin' what she 's a right to do," 
 broke out Mrs. Todd indignantly. Mrs. 
 Todd was the wife of the foreman at the 
 brewery, and an old friend of Tom's. Tom 
 had sat up with her child only the week 
 before. Indeed, there were few women in 
 the tenements, for all their outcry, who did 
 not know how quick had been her hand to 
 help when illness came, or the landlord 
 threatened the sidewalk, or the undertaker 
 insisted on his money in advance. 
 
 " It 's not Tom Grogan that 's crooked," 
 Mrs. Todd continued, " an' ye all know it. 
 It 's that loafer, Dennis Quigg, and that old 
 sneak, Crimmins. They never lifted their 
 hands on a decent job in their lives, an' don't 
 want to. When my man Jack was out of 
 work for four months last winter, and there 
 was n't a pail of coal in the house, was n't 
 96 
 
POP MULLINS'S ADVICE 
 
 Quigg gittin' his four dollars a day for shoot- 
 in' off his mouth every night at O'Leary's, 
 an' fillin' the men's heads full of capital and 
 rights ? An' Dan McGaw 's no better. If 
 ye 're out for jumpin' on people, Mrs. Mori- 
 arty, begin with Quigg an' some of the bum- 
 mers as is runnin' the Union, an' as gits paid 
 whether the men works or not." 
 
 " Bedad, ye 're roight," said half a dozen 
 women, the tide turning suddenly, while the 
 excitement grew and spread, and other 
 women came in from the several smaller ten- 
 ements. 
 
 " Is the trouble at the brewery ? " asked a 
 shrunken-looking woman, opening a door on 
 the corridor, a faded shawl over her head. 
 She was a new-comer, and had been in the 
 tenement only a week or so — not long 
 enough to have the run of the house or to 
 know her neighbors. 
 
 "Yes; at Schwartz's," said Mrs. Todd, 
 stopping opposite her door on the way to her 
 own rooms. "Your man 's got a job there, 
 ain't he ? " 
 
 "He has, mum ; he's gateman — the fust 
 job in six months. Ye don't think they '11 
 make him throw it up, do ye, mum ? " 
 97 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 " Yes ; an' break his head if he don't. 
 Thet 's what they did to my man three years 
 gone, till he had to come in with the gang 
 and pay 'em two dollars a month," replied 
 Mrs. Todd. 
 
 " But my man 's jined, mum, a month ago ; 
 they would n't let him work till he did. 
 Won't ye come in an' set down ? It 's a 
 poor place we have — we 've been so long 
 without work, an' my girl 's laid off with a 
 cough. She 's been a-workin' at the box- 
 factory. If the Union give notice again, I 
 don't know what '11 become of us. Can't we 
 do somethin' ? Maybe Mrs. Grogan might 
 give up the work if she knew how it was wid 
 us. She seems like a dacent woman ; she 
 was in to look at me girl last week, hearin' 
 as how we were strangers an' she very bad." 
 
 " Oh, ye don't know her. Ye can save yer 
 wind and shoe-leather. She 's on ter McGaw 
 red hot ; that 's the worst of it. He better 
 look out ; she '11 down him yet," said Mrs. 
 Todd. 
 
 As the two entered the stuffy, close room 
 for further discussion, a young girl left her 
 seat by the window, and moved into the ad- 
 joining apartment. She had that yellow, 
 98 
 
POP MULLINS'S ADVICE 
 
 waxy skin, hollow, burning eyes, and hectic 
 flush which tell the fatal story so clearly. 
 
 While the women of the tenements were 
 cursing or wringing their hands, the men 
 were devoting themselves to more vigorous 
 measures. A meeting was called for nine 
 o'clock at Lion Hall. 
 
 It was held behind closed doors. Two 
 walking delegates from Brooklyn were pres- 
 ent, having been summoned by telegram the 
 night before, and who were expected to coax 
 or bully the weak-kneed, were the ultimatum 
 sent to Schwartz refused and an order for a 
 sympathetic strike issued. 
 
 At the brewery all was quiet. Schwartz 
 had read the notice left on his desk by the 
 committee the night before, and had already 
 begun his arrangements to supply the places 
 of the men if a strike were ordered. When 
 pressed by Quigg for a reply, he said qui- 
 etly : — 
 
 "The price for hauling will be Grogan's 
 bid. If she wants it, it is hers." 
 
 Tom talked the matter over with Pop, and 
 
 had determined to buy another horse and hire 
 
 two extra carts. At her price there was a 
 
 margin of at least ten cents a ton profit, and 
 
 99 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 as the work lasted through the year, she 
 could adjust the hauling of her other busi- 
 ness without much extra expense. She dis- 
 cussed the situation with no one outside her 
 house. If Schwartz wanted her to carry on 
 the work, she would do it, Union or no Union. 
 Mr. Crane was on her bond. That in itself 
 was a bracing factor. Strong and self-reli- 
 ant as she was, the helping hand which this 
 man held out to her was like an anchor in a 
 storm. 
 
 That Sunday night they were all gathered 
 round the kerosene lamp, — Pop reading, 
 Cully and Patsy on the floor, Jennie listen- 
 ing absent-mindedly, her thoughts far away, 
 — when there came a knock at the kitchen 
 door. Jennie flew to open it. 
 
 Outside stood two women. One was Mrs. 
 Todd, the other the haggard, pinched, care- 
 worn woman who had spoken to her that 
 morning at her room-door in the tenement. 
 
 "They want to see you, mother," said Jen- 
 nie, all the light gone out of her eyes. What 
 could be the matter with Carl, she thought. 
 It had been this way for a week. 
 
 "Well, bring 'em in. Hold on, I '11 go 
 meself." 
 
POP MULLINS'S ADVICE 
 
 " She would come, Tom," said Mrs. Todd, 
 unwinding her shawl from her head and 
 shoulders; "an* ye mustn't blame me, fer 
 it 's none of my doin's. Walk in, mum ; ye 
 can speak to her yerself. Why, where is 
 she?" — looking out of the door into the 
 darkness. " Oh, here ye are ; I thought ye 'd 
 skipped." 
 
 " Do ye remember me ? " said the woman, 
 stepping into the room, her gaunt face look- 
 ing more wretched under the flickering light 
 of the candle than it had done in the morn- 
 ing. " I 'm the new-comer in the tenements. 
 Ye were in to see my girl th' other night. 
 We're in great trouble." 
 
 " She 's not dead ? " said Tom, sinking into 
 a chair. 
 
 " No, thank God ; we 've got her still wid 
 us ; but me man 's come home to-night nigh 
 crazy. He 's a-walkin' the floor this minute, 
 an' so I goes to Mrs. Todd, an' she come wid 
 me. If he loses the job now, we 're in the 
 street. Only two weeks' work since las' fall, 
 an' the girl gettin' worse every day, and 
 every cint in the bank gone, an' hardly a 
 chair lef in the place. An' I says to him, 
 1 1 '11 go meself. She come in to see Katie 
 
 IOI 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 th' other night; she'll listen to me.' We 
 lived in Newark, mum, an' had four rooms 
 and a mahogany sofa and two carpets, till 
 the strike come in the clock-factory, an' me 
 man had to quit ; an' then all winter — oh, 
 we 're not used to the likes of this ! " — cov- 
 ering her face with her shawl and bursting 
 into tears. 
 
 Tom had risen to her feet, her face express- 
 ing the deepest sympathy for the woman, 
 though she was at a loss to understand the 
 cause of her visitor's distress. 
 
 " Is yer man fired ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, an' would n't be if they 'd let him 
 alone. He 's sober an' steady, an' never 
 tastes a drop, and brings his money home to 
 me every Saturday night, and always done ; 
 an' now they " — 
 
 " Well, what 's the matter, then ? " Tom 
 could not stand much beating about the 
 bush. 
 
 " Why, don't ye know they 've give no- 
 tice ? " she said in astonishment ; then, as 
 a misgiving entered her mind, " Maybe I 'm 
 wrong ; but me man an' all of 'em tells me 
 ye 're a-buckin' ag'in' Mr. McGaw, an' that 
 ye has the haulin' job at the brewery." 
 1 02 
 
POP MULLINS'S ADVICE 
 
 "No," said Tom, with emphasis, "ye 're 
 not wrong ; ye 're dead right. But who 's 
 give notice ? " 
 
 " The committee 's give notice, an' the 
 boss at the brewery says he '11 give ye the 
 job if he has to shut up the brewery; an* 
 the committee 's decided to-day that if he 
 does they '11 call out the men. My man is 
 a member, and so I come over " — And 
 she rested her head wearily against the door, 
 the tears streaming down her face. 
 
 Tom looked at her wonderingly, and then, 
 putting her strong arms about her, half car- 
 ried her across the kitchen to a chair by the 
 stove. Mrs. Todd leaned against the table, 
 watching the sobbing woman. 
 
 For a moment no one spoke. It was a 
 new experience for Tom. Heretofore the 
 fight had been her own and for her own. 
 She had never supposed before that she filled 
 so important a place in the neighborhood, 
 and for a moment there flashed across her 
 mind a certain justifiable pride in the situa- 
 tion. But this feeling was momentary. Here 
 was a suffering woman. For the first time 
 she realized that one weaker than herself 
 might suffer in the struggle. What could 
 ^3 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 she do to help her ? This thought was up- 
 permost in her mind. 
 
 " Don't ye worry," she said tenderly. 
 " Schwartz won't fire yer man." 
 
 " No ; but the sluggers will. There was 
 five men 'p'inted to-day to do up the scabs 
 an' the kickers who won't go out. They near 
 killed him once in Newark for kickin*. It 
 was that time, you know, when Katie was 
 first took bad." 
 
 " Do ye know their names ? " said Tom, 
 her eyes flashing. 
 
 " No, an' me man don't. He 's new, an' 
 they dar's n't trust him. It was in the back 
 room, he says, they picked 'em out." 
 
 Tom stood for some moments in deep 
 thought, gazing at the fire, her arms akimbo. 
 Then, wheeling suddenly, she opened the 
 door of the sitting-room, and said in a firm, 
 resolute voice : — 
 
 " Gran'pop, come here ; I want ye." 
 
 The old man laid down his book, and stood 
 in the kitchen doorway. He was in his shirt- 
 sleeves, his spectacles on his forehead. 
 
 "Come inside the kitchen, an' shut that 
 door behind ye. Here 's me friend Jane 
 Todd an' a friend of hers from the tene- 
 104 
 
" Do ye know their names?" said Tom 
 
POP MULLINS'S ADVICE 
 
 ment. That thief of a McGaw has stirred up 
 the Union over the haulin' bid, and they 've 
 sent notice to Schwartz that I don't belong 
 to the Union, an' if he don't throw me over 
 an' give the job to McGaw they '11 call out 
 the men. If they do, there 's a hundred 
 women and three times that many children 
 that '11 go hungry. This woman here 's got 
 a girl herself that has n't drawed a well 
 breath for six months, an' her man 's been 
 idle all winter, an' only just now got a job at 
 Schwartz's, tending gate. Now, what '11 I 
 do ? Shall I chuck up the job or stick?" 
 
 The old man looked into the desolate, 
 weary face of the woman and then at Tom. 
 Then he said slowly : — 
 
 "Well, child, ye kin do widout it, an' 
 maybe t' others can't." • 
 
 " Ye 've got it straight," said Tom ; "that 's 
 just what I think meself." Then, turning to 
 the stranger : — 
 
 " Go home and tell yer man to go to bed. 
 I '11 touch nothin' that '11 break the heart 
 of any woman. The job 's McGaw's. I '11 
 throw up me bid." 
 
 io 5 * 
 
IX 
 
 WHAT A SPARROW SAW 
 
 EVER since the eventful morning when 
 Carl had neglected the Big Gray for a 
 stolen hour with Jennie, Cully had busied 
 himself in devising ways of making the 
 Swede's life miserable. With a boy's keen 
 insight, he had discovered enough to con- 
 vince him that Carl was "dead mashed on 
 Jennie," as he put it, but whether "for 
 keeps" or not he had not yet determined. 
 He had already enriched his songs with cer- 
 tain tender allusions to their present frame 
 of mind and their future state of happiness. 
 " Where was Moses when the light went 
 out ? " and " Little Annie Rooney " had 
 undergone so subtle a change when sung at 
 the top of Mr. James Finnegan's voice that 
 while the original warp and woof of those 
 very popular melodies were entirely unrecog- 
 nizable to any but the persons interested, to 
 them they were as gall and wormwood. This 
 1 06 
 
WHAT A SPARROW SAW 
 
 was Cully's invariable way of expressing his 
 opinions on current affairs. He would sit on 
 the front-board of his cart, — the Big Gray 
 stumbling over the stones as he walked, the 
 reins lying loose, — and fill the air with 
 details of events passing in the village, with 
 all the gusto of a variety actor. The impend- 
 ing strike at the brewery had been made the 
 basis of a paraphrase of "Johnnie, get your 
 gun ; " and even McGaw's red head had come 
 in for its share of abuse to the air of " Fire, 
 boys, fire ! " So for a time this new devel- 
 opment of tenderness on the part of Carl 
 for Jennie served to ring the changes on 
 " Moses " and "Annie Rooney." 
 
 Carl's budding hopes had been slightly 
 nipped by the cold look in Tom's eye when 
 she asked him if it took an hour to give Jen- 
 nie a tattered apron. With some disappoint- 
 ment he noticed that except at rare intervals, 
 and only when Tom was at home, he was no 
 longer invited to the house. He had always 
 been a timid, shrinking fellow where a woman 
 was concerned, having followed the sea and 
 lived among men since he was sixteen years 
 old. During these earlier years he had made 
 two voyages in the Pacific, and another to 
 107 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 the whaling-ground in the Arctic seas. On 
 this last voyage, in a gale of wind, he had 
 saved all the lives aboard a brig, the crew 
 helpless from scurvy. When the lifeboat 
 reached the lee of her stern, Carl at the risk 
 of his life climbed aboard, caught a line, and 
 lowered the men, one by one, into the rescu- 
 ing yawl. He could with perfect equanimity 
 have faced another storm and rescued a sec- 
 ond crew any hour of the day or night, but 
 he could not face a woman's displeasure. 
 Moreover, what Tom wanted done was law to 
 Carl. She had taken him out of the streets 
 and given him a home. He would serve her 
 in whatever way she wished as long as he 
 lived. 
 
 He and Gran'pop were fast friends. On 
 rainy days, or when work was dull in the 
 winter months, the old man would often 
 come into Carl's little chamber, next the har- 
 ness-room in the stable, and sit on his bed by 
 the hour. And Carl would tell him about 
 his people at home, and show him the pic- 
 tures tacked over his bed, those of his old 
 mother with her white cap, and of the young 
 sister who was soon to be married. 
 
 On Sundays Carl followed Tom and her 
 1 08 
 
WHAT A SPARROW SAW 
 
 family to church, waiting until they had left 
 the house. He always sat far back near the 
 door, so that he could see them come out. 
 Then he would overtake Pop with Patsy, 
 whenever the little fellow could go. This 
 was not often, for now there were many days 
 when the boy had to lie all day on the lounge 
 in the sitting-room, poring over his books 
 or playing with Stumpy, brought into the 
 kitchen to amuse him. 
 
 Since the day of Tom's warning look, Carl 
 rarely joined her daughter. Jennie would 
 loiter by the way, speaking to the girls, but 
 he would hang back. He felt that Tom did 
 not want them together. 
 
 One spring morning, however, a new com- 
 plication arose. It was a morning when the 
 sky was a delicate violet-blue, when the sun- 
 light came tempered through a tender land 
 haze and a filmy mist from the still sea, when 
 all the air was redolent with sweet smells of 
 coming spring, and all the girls were gay in 
 new attire. Dennis Quigg had been loun- 
 ging outside the church door, his silk hat and 
 green satin necktie glistening in the sun. 
 When Jennie tripped out Quigg started for- 
 ward. The look on his face, as with swing- 
 109 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 ing shoulders he slouched beside her, sent a 
 thrill of indignation through Carl. He could 
 give her up, perhaps, if Tom insisted, but 
 never to a man like Quigg. Before the walk- 
 ing delegate had "passed the time of day," 
 the young sailor was close beside Jennie, 
 within touch of her hand. 
 
 There was no love lost between the two 
 men. Carl had not forgotten the proposi- 
 tion Quigg had made to him to leave Tom's 
 employ, nor had Quigg forgotten the uplifted 
 shovel with which his proposal had been 
 greeted. Yet there was no well-defined 
 jealousy between them. Mr. Walking Dele- 
 gate Dennis Quigg, confidential agent of 
 Branch No. 3, Knights of Labor, had too 
 good an opinion of himself ever to look upon 
 that "tow-headed duffer of a stable-boy" in 
 the light of a rival. Nor could Carl for a 
 moment think of that narrow-chested, red- 
 faced, flashily dressed Knight as being able 
 to make the slightest impression on " Mees 
 Jan." 
 
 Quigg, however, was more than welcome 
 
 to Jennie to-day. A little sense of wounded 
 
 pride sent the hot color to her cheeks when 
 
 she thought of Carl's apparent neglect. He 
 
 no 
 
WHAT A SPARROW SAW 
 
 had hardly spoken to her in weeks. What 
 had she done that he should treat her so ? 
 She would show him that there were just as 
 good fellows about as Mr. Carl Nilsson. 
 
 But all this faded out when Carl joined 
 her — Carl, so straight, clear-skinned, brown, 
 and ruddy ; his teeth so white ; his eyes so 
 blue ! She could see out of the corner of 
 her eye how the hair curled in tiny rings on 
 his temples. 
 
 Still it was to Quigg she talked. And 
 more than that, she gave him her prayer- 
 book to carry until she fixed her glove — the 
 glove that needed no fixing at all. And she 
 chattered on about the dance at the boat 
 club, and the picnic which was to come off 
 when the weather grew warmer. 
 
 And Carl walked silent beside her, with 
 his head up and his heart down, and the 
 tears very near his eyes. 
 
 When they reached the outer gate of the 
 stable-yard, and Quigg had slouched off with- 
 out even raising his hat, — the absence of all 
 courtesy stands in a certain class for a mark 
 of higher respect, — Carl swung back the 
 gate, and held it open for her to pass in. 
 Jennie loitered for a moment. There was a 
 in 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 look in Carl's face she had not seen before. 
 She had not meant to hurt him, she said to 
 herself. 
 
 "What mak' you no lak me anna more, 
 Mees Jan ? I big annough to carry da buke," 
 said Carl. 
 
 " Why, how you talk, Carl ! I never said 
 such a word," said Jennie, leaning over the 
 fence, her heart fluttering. 
 
 The air was soft as a caress. Opal-tinted 
 clouds with violet shadows sailed above the 
 low hills. In the shade of the fence dande- 
 lions had burst into bloom. From a bush 
 near by a song-sparrow flung a note of spring 
 across the meadow. 
 
 " Well, you nev' cam' to stable anna more, 
 Mees Jan," Carl said slowly, in a tender, 
 pleading tone, his gaze on her face. 
 
 The girl reached through the fence for the 
 golden flower. She dared not trust herself 
 to look. She knew what was in her lover's 
 eyes. 
 
 "I get ta flower," said Carl, vaulting the 
 fence with one hand. 
 
 " No ; please don't trouble. Oh, Carl ! " 
 she exclaimed suddenly. " The horrid brier ! 
 My hand 's all scratched ! " 
 
 112 
 
WHAT A SPARROW SAW 
 
 " Ah, Mees Jan, I so sorry ! Let Carl 
 see it," he said, his voice melting. " I tak' 
 ta brier out," pushing back the tangled vines 
 of last year to bring himself nearer. 
 
 The clouds sailed on. The sparrow stood 
 on its tallest toes and twisted its little neck. 
 
 " Oh, please do, Carl, it hurts so ! " she 
 said, laying her little round hand in the big, 
 strong, horny palm that had held the life-line 
 the night of the wreck. 
 
 The song-sparrow clung to the swaying 
 top of a mullein-stalk near by, and poured 
 out a strong, swelling, joyous song that well- 
 nigh split its throat. 
 
 When Tom called Jennie, half an hour 
 later, she and Carl were still talking across 
 the fence. 
 
 ri 3 
 
CULLY WINS BY A NECK 
 
 ABOUT this time the labor element in 
 the village and vicinity was startled 
 by an advertisement in the Rockville "Daily 
 News," signed by the clerk of the Board of 
 Village Trustees, notifying contractors that 
 thirty days thereafter, closing at nine p. m. 
 precisely, separate sealed proposals would be 
 received at the meeting-room of the board, 
 over the post-office, for the hauling of twenty 
 thousand cubic yards of fine crushed stone 
 for use on the public highways ; bidders 
 would be obliged to give suitable bonds, etc. ; 
 certified check for five hundred dollars to 
 accompany each bid as guaranty, etc. 
 
 The news was a grateful surprise to the 
 workingmen. The hauling and placing of so 
 large an amount of material as soon as spring 
 opened meant plenty of work for many shov- 
 elers and pickers. The local politicians, of 
 course, had known all about it for weeks; 
 114 
 
CULLY WINS BY A NECK 
 
 especially those who owned property front- 
 ing on the streets to be improved: they 
 had helped the appropriation through the 
 finance committee. McGaw, too, had known 
 about it from the first day of its discussion 
 before the board. Those who were inside 
 the ring had decided then that he would 
 be the best man to haul the stone. The 
 "steal," they knew, could best be arranged 
 in the tally of the carts — the final check 
 on the scow measurement. They knew that 
 McGaw's accounts could be controlled, and 
 the total result easily "fixed." The stone 
 itself had been purchased of the manufac- 
 turers the year before, but there were not 
 funds enough to put it on the roads at that 
 time. 
 
 Here, then, was McGaw's chance. His 
 triumph at obtaining the brewery contract 
 was but short-lived. Schwartz had given 
 him the work, but at Tom's price, not at his 
 own. McGaw had accepted it, hoping for 
 profits that would help him with his chattel 
 mortgage. After he had been at work for 
 a month, however, he found that he ran be- 
 hind. He began to see that, in spite of its 
 boastings, the Union had really done nothing 
 IJ 5 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 for him, except indirectly with its threatened 
 strike. The Union, on the other hand, in- 
 sisted that it had been McGaw's business co 
 arrange his own terms with Schwartz. What 
 it had done was to kill Grogan as a competi- 
 tor, and knock her non-union men out of the 
 job. This ended its duty. 
 
 While they said this much to McGaw, 
 so far as outsiders could know, the Union 
 claimed that they had scored a brilliant vic- 
 tory. The Brooklyn and New York branches 
 duly paraded it as another triumph over capi- 
 tal, and their bank accounts were accordingly 
 increased with new dues and collections. 
 
 With this new contract in his possession, 
 McGaw felt certain he could cancel his debt 
 with Crane and get even with the world. 
 He began his arrangements at once. Police- 
 Justice Rowan, the prospective candidate for 
 the Assembly, who had acquired some landed 
 property by the purchase of expired tax titles, 
 agreed to furnish the certified check for five 
 hundred dollars and to sign McGaw's bond 
 for a consideration to be subsequently agreed 
 upon. A brother of Rowan's, a contractor, 
 who was finishing some grading at Quaran- 
 tine Landing, had also consented, for a con- 
 116 
 
CULLY WINS BY A NECK 
 
 sideration, to loan McGaw what extra teams 
 he required. 
 
 The size of the contract was so great, and 
 the deposit check and bond were so large, 
 that McGaw concluded at once that the com- 
 petition would be narrowed down between 
 himself and Rowan's brother, with Justice 
 Rowan as backer, and perhaps one other firm 
 from across the island, near New Brighton. 
 His own advantage over other bidders was 
 in his living on the spot, with his stables and 
 teams near at hand. 
 
 Tom, he felt assured, was out of the way. 
 Not only was the contract very much too 
 large for her, requiring twice as many carts 
 as she possessed, but now that the spring 
 work was about to begin, and Babcock's sea- 
 wall work to be resumed, she had all the 
 stevedoring she could do for her own cus- 
 tomers, without going outside for additional 
 business. 
 
 Moreover, she had apparently given up the 
 fight, for she had bid on no work of any 
 kind since the morning she had called upon 
 Schwartz and told him, in her blunt, frank 
 way, " Give the work to McGaw at me price. 
 It 's enough and fair." 
 "7 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Tom, meanwhile, made frequent visits to 
 New York, returning late at night. One day 
 she brought home a circular with cuts of sev- 
 eral improved kinds of hoisting-engines with 
 automatic dumping-buckets. She showed 
 them to Pop under the kerosene lamp at 
 night, explaining to him their advantages in 
 handling small material like coal or broken 
 stone. Once she so far relaxed her rules in 
 regard to Jennie's lover as to send for Carl 
 to come to the house after supper, question- 
 ing him closely about the upper rigging of a 
 new derrick she had seen. Carl's experience 
 as a sailor was especially valuable in matters 
 of this kind. He could not only splice a 
 broken "fall," and repair the sheaves and 
 friction-rollers in a hoisting-block, but when- 
 ever the rigging got tangled aloft he could 
 spring up the derrick like a cat and unreeve 
 the rope in an instant. She also wrote to 
 Babcock, asking him to stop at her house 
 some morning on his way to the Quarantine 
 Landing, where he was building a retaining- 
 wall ; and when he arrived, she took him out 
 to the shed where she kept her heavy der- 
 ricks. That more experienced contractor at 
 once became deeply interested, and made a 
 118 
 
CULLY WINS BY A NECK 
 
 series of sketches for her, on the back of an 
 envelope, of an improved pintle and revolving- 
 cap which he claimed would greatly improve 
 the working of her derricks. These sketches 
 she took to the village blacksmith next day, 
 and by that night had an estimate of their 
 cost. She was also seen one morning, when 
 the new trolley company got rid of its old 
 stock, at a sale of car-horses, watching the 
 prices closely, and examining the condition 
 of the animals sold. She asked the superin- 
 tendent to drop her a postal when the next 
 sale occurred. To her neighbors, however, 
 and even to her own men, she said nothing. 
 The only man in the village to whom she 
 had spoken regarding the new work was the 
 clerk of the board, and then only casually as 
 to the exact time when the bids would be 
 received. 
 
 The day before the eventful night when 
 the proposals were to be opened, Mr. Crane, 
 in his buggy, stopped at her house on his way 
 back from the fort, and they drove together 
 to the ferry. When she returned she called 
 Pop into the kitchen, shut the door, and 
 showed him the bid duly signed and a slip 
 of pink paper. This was a check of Crane 
 119 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 & Co.'s to be deposited with the bid. Then 
 she went down to the stable and had a long 
 conference with Cully. 
 
 The village Board of Trustees consisted 
 of nine men, representing a fair average of 
 the intelligence and honesty of the people. 
 The president was a reputable hardware mer- 
 chant, a very good citizen, who kept a store 
 largely patronized by local contractors. The 
 other members were two lawyers, — young 
 men working up in practice with the assist- 
 ance of a political pull, — a veterinary sur- 
 geon, and five gentlemen of leisure, whose 
 only visible means of support were derived 
 from pool-rooms and ward meetings. Every 
 man on the board, except the surgeon and 
 the president, had some particular axe to 
 grind. One wished to be sheriff; another, 
 county clerk. The five gentlemen of leisure 
 wished to stay where they were. When a 
 pie was cut, these five held the knife. It 
 was their fault, they said, when they went 
 hungry. 
 
 In the side of this body politic the sur- 
 geon was a thorn as sharp as any one of 
 his scalpels. He was a hard-headed, sober- 
 minded Scotchman, who had been elected 
 120 
 
CULLY WINS BY A NECK 
 
 to represent a group of his countrymen liv- 
 ing in the eastern part of the village, and 
 whose profession, the five supposed, indicated 
 without doubt his entire willingness to see 
 through a cart-wheel, especially when the hub 
 was silver-plated. At the first meeting of 
 the board they learned their mistake, but it 
 did not worry them much. They had seven 
 votes to two. 
 
 The council-chamber of the board was a 
 hall — large for Rockville — situated over the 
 post-office, and only two doors from O'Leary's 
 barroom. It was the ordinary village hall, 
 used for everything from a Christmas festi- 
 val to a prize-fight. In summer it answered 
 for a skating-rink. 
 
 Once a month the board occupied it. On 
 these occasions a sort of rostrum was brought 
 in for the president, besides a square table and 
 a dozen chairs. These were placed at one 
 end, and were partitioned off by a wooden 
 rail to form an inclosure, outside of which 
 always stood the citizens. On the wall hung 
 a big eight-day clock. Over the table, about 
 which were placed chairs, a kerosene lamp 
 swung on a brass chain. Opposite each seat 
 lay a square of blotting-paper and some cheap 
 
 121 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 pens and paper. Down the middle of the 
 table were three inkstands, standing in china 
 plates. 
 
 The board always met in the evening, 
 as the business hours of the members pre- 
 vented their giving the day to their deliber- 
 ations. 
 
 Upon the night of the letting of the con- 
 tract the first man to arrive was McGaw. He 
 ran up the stairs hurriedly, found no one he 
 was looking for, and returned to O'Leary's, 
 where he was joined by Justice Rowan and 
 his brother John, the contractor, Quigg, Crim* 
 mins, and two friends of the Union. During 
 the last week the Union was outspoken in 
 its aid of McGaw, and its men had quietly 
 passed the word of " Hands off this job ! " 
 about in the neighborhood. If McGaw got 
 the work — and there was now not the slight- 
 est doubt of it — he would, of course, em- 
 ploy all Union men. If anybody else got 
 it — well, they would attend to him later. 
 " One thing was certain : no ' scab ' from 
 New Brighton should come over and take 
 it." They'd do up anybody who tried that 
 game. 
 
 When McGaw, surrounded by his friends, 
 
 122 
 
CULLY WINS BY A NECK 
 
 entered the board-room again, the place was 
 full. Outside the rail stood a solid mass of 
 people. Inside every seat was occupied. It 
 was too important a meeting for any trustee 
 to miss. 
 
 McGaw stood on his toes and looked over 
 the heads. To his delight, Tom was not in 
 the room, and no one representing her. If he 
 had had any lingering suspicion of her bid- 
 ding, her non-appearance allayed it. He knew 
 now that she was out of the race. Moreover, 
 no New Brighton people had come. He whis- 
 pered this information to Justice Rowan's 
 brother behind his big, speckled hand covered 
 with its red, spidery hair. Then the two 
 forced their way out again, reentered the 
 post-office, and borrowed a pen. Once there, 
 McGaw took from his side pocket two large 
 envelopes, the contents of which he spread 
 out under the light. 
 
 "I'm dead roight," said McGaw. "I'll 
 put up the price of this other bid. There 
 ain't a man round here that dares show his 
 head. The Union 's fixed 'em." 
 
 " Will the woman bid ? " asked his com- 
 panion. 
 
 " The woman ! What 'd she be a-doin' wid 
 123 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 a bid loike that? She c'u'dn't handle the 
 half of it. I '11 wait till a few minutes to nine 
 o'clock. Ye kin fix up both these bids an' hold 
 'era in yer pocket. Thin we kin see what bids 
 is laid on the table. Ours '11 go in last. If 
 there 's nothin' else we '11 give 'em the high 
 one. I '11 git inside the rail, so 's to be near 
 the table." 
 
 When the two squeezed back through the 
 throng again into the board-room, even the 
 staircase was packed. McGaw pulled off his 
 fur cap and struggled past the rail, bowing 
 to the president. The justice's brother stood 
 outside, within reach of McGaw's hand. Mc- 
 Gaw glanced at the clock and winked com- 
 placently at his prospective partner — not a 
 single bid had been handed in. Then he 
 thrust out his long arm, took from Rowan's 
 brother the big envelope containing the higher 
 bid, and dropped it on the table. 
 
 Just then there was a commotion at the 
 door. Somebody was trying to force a pas- 
 sage in. The president rose from his chair, 
 and looked over the crowd. McGaw started 
 from his chair, looked anxiously at the clock, 
 then at his partner. The body of a boy 
 struggling like an eel worked its way through 
 124 
 
CULLY WINS BY A NECK 
 
 the mass, dodged under the wooden bar, and 
 threw an envelope on the table. 
 
 " Dat 's Tom Grogan's bid," he said, look- 
 ing at the president, " Hully gee ! but dat 
 was a close shave ! She telled me not ter 
 dump it till one minute o' nine, an' de bloke 
 at de door come near sp'ilin' de game till I 
 give him one in de mug." 
 
 At this instant the clock struck nine, and 
 the president's gavel fell. 
 
 "Time's up," said the Scotchman. 
 125 
 
XI 
 
 A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 
 
 THE excitement over the outcome of the 
 bidding was intense. The barroom 
 at O'Leary's was filled with a motley crowd 
 of men, most of whom belonged to the Union, 
 and all of whom had hoped to profit in some 
 way had the contract fallen into the hands of 
 the political ring who were dominating the 
 affairs of the village. The more hot-headed 
 and outspoken swore vengeance, not only 
 against the horse-doctor, who had refused to 
 permit McGaw to smuggle in the second 
 bid, but against Crane & Co. and everybody 
 else who had helped to defeat their schemes. 
 They meant to boycott Crane before to- 
 morrow night. He should not unload or 
 freight another cargo of coal until they 
 allowed it. The village powers, they ad- 
 mitted, could not be boycotted, but they 
 would do everything they could to make it 
 uncomfortable for the board if it awarded 
 126 
 
A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 
 
 the contract to Grogan. Neither would they 
 forget the trustees at the next election. As 
 to that "smart Alec" of a horse-doctor, they 
 knew how to fix him. Suppose it had struck 
 nine and the polls had closed, what right had 
 he to keep McGaw from handing in his 
 other bid ? (Both were higher than Tom's. 
 This fact, however, McGaw had never men- 
 tioned.) 
 
 Around the tenements the interest was 
 no less marked. Mr. Moriarty had sent 
 the news of Tom's success ringing through 
 O'Leary's, and Mrs. Moriarty, waiting out- 
 side the barroom door for the pitcher her 
 husband had filled for her inside, had spread 
 its details through every hallway in the 
 tenement. 
 
 " Ah, but Tom 's a keener," said that gos- 
 sip. " Think of that little divil Cully jammed 
 behind the door with her bid in his hand, 
 a-waitin' for the clock to get round to two 
 minutes o' nine, an' that big stuff Dan 
 McGaw sittin' inside wid two bids up his 
 sleeve ! Oh, but she 's cunnin', she is ! 
 Dan 's clean beat. He '11 niver haul a shovel 
 o* that stone." 
 
 "How '11 she be a-doin' a job like that ? " 
 127 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 came from a woman listening over the ban- 
 isters. 
 
 " Be dohV ? " rejoined a red-headed virago. 
 " Would n't ye be doin' it yerself if ye had 
 that big coal-dealer behind ye ?" 
 
 " Oh, we hear enough. Who says they 're 
 in it ? " rejoined a third listener. 
 
 "Pete Lathers says so — the yard boss. 
 He was a-tellin' me man yisterday." 
 
 On consulting Justice Rowan the next 
 morning, McGaw and his friends found but 
 little comfort. The law was explicit, the 
 justice said. The contract must be given to 
 the lowest responsible bidder. Tom had 
 deposited her certified check of five hundred 
 dollars with the bid, and there was no infor- 
 mality in her proposal. He was sorry for 
 McGaw, but if Mrs. Grogan signed the con- 
 tract there was no hope for him. The horse- 
 doctor's action was right. If McGaw's sec- 
 ond bid had been received, it would simply 
 have invalidated both of his, the law forbid- 
 ding two from the same bidder. 
 
 Rowan's opinion sustaining Tom's right 
 
 was a blow he did not expect. Furthermore, 
 
 the justice offered no hope for the future. 
 
 The law gave Tom the award, and nothing 
 
 128 
 
A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 
 
 could prevent her hauling the stone if she 
 signed the contract. These words rang in 
 McGaw's ears — if she signed the contract. 
 On this if hung his only hope. 
 
 Rowan was too shrewd a politician, now 
 that McGaw's chances were gone, to advise 
 any departure, even by a hair-line, from the 
 strict letter of the law. He was, moreover, 
 too upright as a justice to advise any mem- 
 ber of the defeated party to an overt act 
 which might look like unfairness to any bid- 
 der concerned. He had had a talk, besides, 
 with his brother over night, and they had 
 accordingly determined to watch events. 
 Should a way be found of rejecting on legal 
 grounds Tom's bid, making a new advertise- 
 ment necessary, Rowan meant to ignore 
 McGaw altogether, and have his brother bid 
 in his own name. This determination was 
 strengthened when McGaw, in a burst of 
 confidence, told Rowan of his present finan- 
 cial straits. 
 
 From Rowan's the complaining trio ad- 
 journed to O'Leary's barroom. Crimmins 
 and McGaw entered first. Quigg arrived 
 later. He closed one eye meaningly as he 
 entered, and O'Leary handed a brass key to 
 129 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 him over the bar with the remark, " Stamp 
 on the floor three toimes, Dinny, an' I '11 
 send yez up what ye want to drink." Then 
 Crimmins opened a door concealed by a 
 wooden screen, and the three disappeared up- 
 stairs. Crimmins reappeared within an hour, 
 and hurried out the front door. In a few 
 moments he returned with Justice Rowan, 
 who had adjourned court. Immediately after 
 the justice's arrival there came three raps 
 from the floor above, and O'Leary swung 
 back the door, and disappeared with an assort- 
 ment of drinkables on a tray. 
 
 The conference lasted until noon. Then 
 the men separated outside the barroom. 
 From the expression on the face of each one 
 as he emerged from the door it was evident 
 that the meeting had not produced any very 
 cheering or conclusive results. McGaw had 
 that vindictive, ugly, bulldog look about the 
 eyes and mouth which always made his wife 
 tremble when he came home. The result of 
 the present struggle over the contract was 
 a matter of life or death to him. His notes, 
 secured by the chattel mortgage on his live 
 stock, would be due in a few days. Crane 
 had already notified him that they must be 
 130 
 
A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 
 
 paid, and he knew enough of his money- 
 lender, and of the anger which he had roused, 
 to know that no extension would be granted 
 him. Losing this contract, he had lost his 
 only hope of paying them. Had it been 
 awarded him, he could have found a dozen 
 men who would have loaned him the money 
 to take up these notes and so to pay Crane. 
 He had comforted himself the night before 
 with the thought that Justice Rowan could 
 find some way to help him out of his di- 
 lemma; that the board would vote as the 
 justice advised, and then, of course, Tom's 
 bid would be invalidated. Now even this 
 hope had failed him. " Whoever heard of a 
 woman's doing a job for a city?" he kept 
 repeating mechanically to himself. 
 
 Tom knew of none of these conspiracies. 
 Had she done so they would not have caused 
 her a moment's anxiety. Here was a fight 
 in which no one would suffer except the head 
 that got in her way, and she determined to 
 hit that with all her might the moment it 
 rose into view. This was no brewery con- 
 tract, she argued with Pop, where five hun- 
 dred men might be thrown out of employ- 
 ment, with all the attendant suffering to 
 131 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 women and children. The village was a 
 power nobody could boycott. Moreover, the 
 law protected her in her rights under the 
 award. She would therefore quietly wait 
 until the day for signing the papers arrived, 
 furnish her bond, and begin a work she 
 could superintend herself. In the mean 
 time she would continue her preparations. 
 One thing she was resolved upon — she 
 would have nothing to do with the Union. 
 Carl could lay his hand on a dozen of his 
 countrymen who would be glad to get em- 
 ployment with her. If they were all like him 
 she need have no fear in any emergency. 
 
 She bought two horses — great strong ones, 
 — at the trolley sale, and ordered two new 
 carts from a manufacturer in Newark, to be 
 sent to her on the first of the coming month. 
 
 Her friends took her good fortune less 
 calmly. Their genuine satisfaction expressed 
 itself in a variety of ways. Crane sent her 
 this characteristic telegram : — 
 
 " Bully for you ! " 
 
 Babcock came all the way down to her 
 home to offer her his congratulations, and to 
 tender her what assistance she needed in 
 tools or money. 
 
 132 
 
A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 
 
 The Union, in their deliberations, insisted 
 that it was the " raised bid " which had 
 ruined the business with McGaw and for 
 them. It was therefore McGaw' s duty to 
 spare no effort to prevent her signing the 
 contract. They had stuck by him in times 
 gone by ; he must now stick by them. One 
 point was positively insisted upon : Union 
 men must be employed on the work, whoever 
 got it. 
 
 McGaw, however, was desperate. He de- 
 nounced Tom in a vocabulary peculiar to 
 himself and full of innuendoes and oaths, but 
 without offering any suggestion as to how his 
 threats against her might be carried out. 
 
 With his usual slyness, Quigg said very lit- 
 tle openly. He had not yet despaired of 
 winning Jennie's favor, and until that hope 
 was abandoned he could hardly make up his 
 mind which side of the fence he was on. 
 Crimmins was even more indifferent in regard 
 to the outcome — his pay as walking delegate 
 went on, whichever side won ; he could wait. 
 
 In this emergency McGaw again sought 
 Crimmins's assistance. He urged the impor- 
 tance of his getting the contract, and he 
 promised to make Crimmins foreman on the 
 *3Z 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 street, and to give him a share in the profits, 
 if he would help him in some way to get the 
 work now. The first step, he argued, was 
 the necessity of crushing Tom. Everything 
 else would be easy after that. Such a task, 
 he felt, would not be altogether uncongenial 
 to Crimmins, still smarting under Tom's con- 
 temptuous treatment of him the day he 
 called upon her in his capacity of walking 
 delegate. 
 
 McGaw's tempting promise made a deep 
 impression upon Crimmins. He determined 
 then and there to inflict some blow on Tom 
 Grogan from which she could never recover. 
 He was equally determined on one other 
 thing — not to be caught. 
 
 Early the next morning Crimmins sta- 
 tioned himself outside O'Leary's where he 
 could get an uninterrupted view of two 
 streets. He stood hunched up against the 
 jamb of O'Leary's door in the attitude of a 
 corner loafer, with three parts of his body 
 touching the wood — hip, shoulder, and 
 cheek. For some time no one appeared in 
 sight either useful or inimical to his plans, 
 until Mr. James Finnegan, who was filling 
 the morning air with one of his characteristic 
 i34 
 
A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 
 
 songs, brightened the horizon up the street to 
 his left. 
 
 Cully's unexpected appearance at that mo- 
 ment produced so uncomfortable an effect 
 upon Mr. Crimmins that that gentleman fell 
 instantly back through the barroom door. 
 
 The boy's quick eye caught the movement, 
 and it also caught a moment later, Mr. Crim- 
 mins's nose and watery eye peering out again 
 when their owner had assured himself that 
 his escape had been unseen. Cully slackened 
 his pace to see what new move Crimmins 
 would make — but without the slightest sign 
 of recognition on his face — and again broke 
 into song. He was on his way to get the 
 mail, and had passed McGaw's house but a 
 few moments before, in the hope that that 
 worthy Knight might be either leaning over 
 the fence or seated on the broken-down 
 porch. He was anxious McGaw should hear 
 a few improvised stanzas of a new ballad he 
 had composed to that delightful old negro 
 melody, " Massa's in de cold, cold ground," 
 in which the much-beloved Southern planter 
 and the thoroughly hated McGaw changed 
 places in the cemetery. 
 
 That valiant Knight was still in bed, 
 i35 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 exhausted by the labors of the previous even- 
 ing. Young Billy, however, was about the 
 stables, and so Mr. James Finnegan took 
 occasion to tarry long enough in the road for 
 the eldest son of his enemy to get the stanza 
 by heart, in the hope that he might retail it 
 to his father when he appeared. 
 
 Billy dropped his manure-fork as soon as 
 Cully had moved on again, and dodging be- 
 hind the fence, followed him toward the post- 
 office, hoping to hit the singer with a stone. 
 
 When the slinking body of McGaw's eldest 
 son became visible to Mr. Crimmins, his face 
 broke into creases so nearly imitative of a 
 smile that his best friend would not have 
 known him. He slapped the patched knees 
 of his overalls gayly, bent over in a subdued 
 chuckle, and disported himself in a merry 
 and much satisfied way. His rum-and-watery 
 eyes gleamed with delight, and even his chin- 
 whisker took on a new vibration. Next he 
 laid one finger along his nose, looked about 
 him cautiously, and said to himself, in an 
 undertone : — 
 
 " The very boy ! It '11 fix McGaw dead to 
 rights, an' ther' won't be no squealin' after 
 it 's done." 
 
 136 
 
A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 
 
 Here he peered around the edge of one of 
 O'Leary's drawn window-shades, and waited 
 until Cully had passed the barroom, secured 
 his mail, and started for home, his uninter- 
 rupted song filling the air. Then he opened 
 the blind very cautiously, and beckoned to 
 Billy. 
 
 Cully's eye caught the new movement as 
 he turned the corner. His song ceased. 
 When Mr. Finnegan had anything very seri- 
 ous on his mind he never sang. 
 
 When, some time after, Billy emerged 
 from O'Leary's door, he had a two-dollar bill 
 tightly squeezed in his right hand. Part of 
 this he spent on his way home for a box of 
 cigarettes ; the balance he invested in a mys- 
 terious-looking tin can. The can was narrow 
 and long and had a screw nozzle at one end. 
 This can Cully saw him hide in a corner of 
 his father's stable. 
 
 *37 
 
XII 
 
 cully's night out 
 
 EVER since the night Cully, with the 
 news of the hair-breadth escape of the 
 bid, had dashed back to Tom, waiting around 
 the corner, he had been the hero of the hour. 
 As she listened to his description of Mc- 
 Gaw when her bid dropped on the table — 
 " LookhV like he 'd eat sumpin' he could n't 
 swaller — see ? " her face was radiant, and her 
 sides shook with laughter. She had counted 
 upon McGaw falling into her trap, and she 
 was delighted over the success of her experi- 
 ment. Tom had once before caught him rais- 
 ing a bid when he discovered that but one 
 had been offered. 
 
 In recognition of these valuable services 
 Tom had given Cully two tickets for a circus 
 which was then charming the inhabitants of 
 New Brighton, a mile or more away, and he 
 and Carl were going the following night. Mr. 
 Finnegan was to wear a black sack-coat, a 
 138 
 
CULLY'S NIGHT OUT 
 
 derby hat, and a white shirt which Jennie, in 
 the goodness of her heart, had ironed for him 
 herself. She had also ironed a scarf of Carl's, 
 and had laid it on the window-sill of the outer 
 kitchen, where Cully might find it as he 
 passed by. 
 
 The walks home from church were now 
 about the only chance the lovers had of be- 
 ing together. Almost every day Carl was off 
 with the teams. When he did come home in 
 working hours he would take his dinner with 
 the men and boys in the outer kitchen. Jen- 
 nie sometimes waited on them, but he rarely 
 spoke to her as she passed in and out, except 
 with his eyes. 
 
 When Cully handed him the scarf, Carl had 
 already dressed himself in his best clothes, 
 producing so marked a change in the out- 
 ward appearance of the young Swede that 
 Cully in his admiration pronounced him " out 
 o' sight." 
 
 Cully's metamorphosis was even more com- 
 plete than Carl's. Now that the warm spring 
 days were approaching, Mr. Finnegan had 
 decided that his superabundant locks were 
 unseasonable, and had therefore had his hair 
 cropped close to his scalp, showing here and 
 
 l 39 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 there a white scar, the record of some formei 
 scrimmage. Reaching to the edge of each 
 ear was a collar as stiff as pasteboard. His 
 derby was tilted over his left eyebrow, shad- 
 ing a face brimming over with fun and expec- 
 tancy. Below this was a vermilion-colored 
 necktie and a black coat and trousers. His 
 shoes sported three coats of blacking, which 
 only partly concealed the dust-marks of his 
 profession. 
 
 " Hully gee, Carl ! but de circus 's a-goin' 
 tei be a dandy," he called out in delight, as 
 he patted a double shuffle with his feet. " I 
 see de picters on de fence when I come from 
 de ferry. Dere 's a chariot -race out o' sight, 
 an' a' elephant what stands on 'is head. Hold 
 on till I see ef de Big Gray 's got enough 
 beddin' under him. He wuz awful stiff dis 
 mornin' when I helped him up." Cully never 
 went to bed without seeing the Gray first 
 made comfortable for the night. 
 
 The two young fellows saw all the sights, 
 and after filling their pockets with peanuts 
 and themselves with pink lemonade, took 
 their seats at last under the canvas roof, 
 where they waited impatiently for the per- 
 formance to begin. 
 
 140 
 
CULLY'S NIGHT OUT 
 
 The only departure from the ordinary rou- 
 tine was Cully's instant acceptance of the 
 clown's challenge to ride the trick mule, and 
 his winning the wager amid the plaudits 
 of the audience, after a rough-and-tumble 
 scramble in the sawdust, sticking so tight to 
 his back that a bystander remarked that the 
 only way to get the boy off would be to " peel 
 the mule." 
 
 When they returned it was nearly midnight. 
 Cully had taken off his " choker," as he called 
 it, and had curled it outside his hat. They 
 had walked over from the show, and the tight 
 clutch of the collar greatly interfered with 
 Cully's discussion of the wonderful things he 
 had seen. Besides, the mule had ruined it 
 completely for a second use. 
 
 It was a warm night for early spring, and 
 Carl had his coat over his arm. When they 
 reached the outer stable fence — the one near- 
 est the village — Cully's keen nose scented a 
 peculiar odor. "Who 's been a breakin' de 
 lamp round here, Carl ? " he asked, sniffing 
 close to the ground. "Holy smoke! Look 
 at de light in de stable — sumpin' mus' be de 
 matter wid de Big Gray, or de ole woman 
 would n't be out dis time o' night wid a lamp. 
 141 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 What would she be a-doin' out here, any- 
 way ? " he exclaimed in a sudden anxious tone. 
 " Dis ain't de road from de house. Hully 
 gee ! Look out for yer coat ! De rails is 
 a-soakin' wid ker'sene ! " 
 
 At this moment a little flame shot out of 
 the window over the Big Gray's head and 
 licked its way up the siding, followed by a 
 column of smoke which burst through the 
 door in the hay-loft above the stalls of the 
 three horses next the bedroom of Carl and 
 Cully. A window was hastily opened in Tom's 
 house and a frightened shriek broke the still- 
 ness of the night. It was Jennie's voice, and 
 it had a tone of something besides alarm. 
 
 What the sight of the fire had paralyzed in 
 Carl, the voice awoke. 
 
 " No, no ! I here — I safe, Jan ! " he cried, 
 clearing the fence with a bound. 
 
 Cully did not hear Jennie. He saw only 
 the curling flames over the Big Gray's head. 
 As he dashed down the slope he kept mutter- 
 ing the old horse's pet names, catching his 
 breath, and calling to Carl, " Save de Gray — 
 save Ole Blowhard ! " 
 
 Cully reached the stable first, smashed the 
 padlock with a shovel, and rushed into the 
 142 
 
CULLY'S NIGHT OUT 
 
 Gray's stall. Carl seized a horse-bucket, and 
 began sousing the window-sills of the harness- 
 room, where the fire was hottest. 
 
 By this time the whole house was aroused. 
 Tom, dazed by the sudden awakening, with 
 her ulster thrown about her shoulders, stood 
 barefooted on the porch. Jennie was still at 
 the window, sobbing as if her heart would 
 break, now that Carl was safe. Patsy had 
 crawled out of his low crib by his mother's 
 bed, and was stumbling downstairs, one foot 
 at a time. Twice had Cully tried to drag 
 the old horse clear of his stall, and twice had 
 he fallen back for fresh air. Then came 
 a smothered cry from inside the blinding 
 smoke, a burst of flame lighting up the stable, 
 and the Big Gray was pushed out, his head 
 wrapped in Carl's coat, the Swede pressing 
 behind, Cully coaxing him on, his arms around 
 the horse's neck. 
 
 Hardly had the Big Gray cleared the stable 
 when the roof of the small extension fell, and 
 a great burst of flame shot up into the night 
 air. All hope of rescuing the other two 
 horses was now gone. 
 
 Tom did not stand long dazed and be- 
 wildered. In a twinkling she had drawn on 
 i43 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 a pair of men's boots over her bare feet, 
 buckled her ulster over her night-dress, and 
 rushed back upstairs to drag the blankets 
 from the beds. Laden with these she sprang 
 down the steps, called to Jennie to follow, 
 soaked the bedding in the water-trough, and, 
 picking up the dripping mass, carried it to 
 Carl and Cully, who, now that the Gray was 
 safely tied to the kitchen porch, were on the 
 roof of the tool-house, fighting the sparks 
 that fell on the shingles. 
 
 By this time the neighbors began to arrive 
 from the tenements. Tom took charge of 
 every man as soon as he got his breath, sta- 
 tioned two at the pump-handle, and formed a 
 line of bucket-passers from the water-trough 
 to Carl and Cully, who were spreading the 
 blankets on the roof. The heat now was 
 terrific ; Carl had to shield his face with his 
 sleeve as he threw the water. Cully lay flat 
 on the shingles, holding to the steaming 
 blankets, and directing Carl's buckets with 
 his outstretched finger when some greater 
 spark lodged and gained headway. If they 
 could keep these burning brands under until 
 the heat had spent itself, they could perhaps 
 save the tool-house and the larger stable. 
 144 
 
CULLY'S NIGHT OUT 
 
 All this time Patsy had stood on the porch 
 where Tom had left him hanging over the 
 railing wrapped in Jennie's shawl. He was 
 not to move until she came for him : she 
 wanted him out of the way of trampling feet. 
 Now and then she would turn anxiously, 
 catch sight of his wizened face dazed with 
 fright, wave her hand to him encouragingly, 
 and work on. 
 
 Suddenly the little fellow gave a cry of 
 terror and slid from the porch, trailing the 
 shawl after him, his crutch jerking over the 
 ground, his sobs almost choking him. 
 
 " Mammy ! Cully ! Stumpy 's tied in the 
 loft ! Oh, somebody help me ! He 's in the 
 loft ! Oh, please, please ! " 
 
 In the roar of the flames nobody heard 
 him. The noise of axes beating down the 
 burning fences drowned all other sounds. At 
 this moment Tom was standing on a cart, 
 passing up the buckets to Carl. Cully had 
 crawled to the ridge-pole of the tool-house to 
 watch both sides of the threatened roof. 
 
 The little cripple made his way slowly into 
 the crowd nearest the sheltered side of the 
 tool-house, pulling at the men's coats, plead- 
 ing with them to save his goat, his Stumpy. 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 On this side was a door opening into a 
 room where the chains were kept. From it 
 rose a short flight of six or seven steps lead- 
 ing to the loft. This loft had two big doors 
 — one closed, nearest the fire, and the other 
 wide open, fronting the house. When the 
 roof of the burning stable fell, the wisps of 
 straw in the cracks of the closed door burst 
 into flame. 
 
 Within three feet of this blazing mass, 
 shivering with fear, tugging at his rope, his 
 eyes bursting from his head, stood Stumpy, 
 his piteous bleatings unheard in the surround- 
 ing roar. A child's head appeared above the 
 floor, followed by a cry of joy as the boy flung 
 himself upon the straining rope. The next 
 instant a half-frenzied goat sprang through 
 the open door and landed in the yard below 
 in the midst of the startled men and women. 
 
 Tom was on the cart when she saw this 
 streak of light flash out of the darkness of 
 the loft door and disappear. Her eyes in- 
 stinctively turned to look at Patsy in his place 
 on the porch. Then a cry of horror burst 
 from the crowd, silenced instantly as a pier- 
 cing shriek filled the air. 
 
 " My God ! It 's me Patsy ! " 
 146 
 
CULLY'S NIGHT OUT 
 
 Bareheaded in the open doorway of the now 
 blazing loft, a silhouette against the flame, his 
 little white gown reaching to his knees, his 
 crutch gone, the stifling smoke rolling out in 
 great whirls above his head, stood the cripple ! 
 
 Tom hurled herself into the crowd, knock- 
 ing the men out of her way, and ran towards 
 the chain room door. At this instant a man 
 in his shirt-sleeves dropped from the smok- 
 ing roof, sprang in front of her, and caught 
 her in his arms. 
 
 " No, not you go ; Carl go ! " he said in a 
 firm voice, holding her fast. 
 
 Before she could speak he snatched a hand- 
 kerchief from a woman's neck, plunged it into 
 the water of the horse-trough, bound it about 
 his head, dashed up the short flight of steps, 
 and crawled toward the terror-stricken child. 
 There was a quick clutch, a bound back, and 
 the smoke rolled over them, shutting man 
 and child from view. 
 
 The crowd held their breath as it waited. 
 A man with his hair singed and his shirt on 
 fire staggered from the side door. In his 
 arms he carried the almost lifeless boy, his 
 face covered by the handkerchief. 
 
 A woman rushed up, caught the boy in her 
 i47 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 arms, and sank on her knees. The man 
 reeled and fell. 
 
 When Carl regained consciousness, Jennie 
 was bending over him, chafing his hands and 
 bathing his face. Patsy was on the sofa, 
 wrapped in Jennie's shawl. Pop was fanning 
 him. Carl's wet handkerchief, the old man 
 said, had kept the boy from suffocating. 
 
 The crowd had begun to disperse. The 
 neighbors and strangers had gone their sev- 
 eral ways. The tenement-house mob were 
 on the road to their beds. Many friends had 
 stopped to sympathize, and even the bitter- 
 est of Tom's enemies said they were glad it 
 was no worse. 
 
 When the last of them had left the yard, 
 Tom, tired out with anxiety and hard work, 
 threw herself down on the porch. The morn- 
 ing was already breaking, the gray streaks of 
 dawn brightening the east. From her seat 
 she could hear through the open door the 
 soothing tones of Jennie's voice as she talked 
 to her lover, and the hoarse whispers of Carl 
 in reply. He had recovered his breath again, 
 and was but little worse for his scorching, 
 except in his speech. Jennie was in the 
 148 
 
CULLY'S NIGHT OUT 
 
 kitchen making some coffee for the exhausted 
 workers, and he was helping her. 
 
 Tom realized fully all that had happened. 
 She knew who had saved Patsy's life. She 
 remembered how he laid her boy in her arms, 
 and she still saw the deathly pallor in his 
 face as he staggered and fell. What had he 
 not done for her and her household since he 
 entered her service ? If he loved Jennie, and 
 she him, was it his fault ? Why did she 
 rebel, and refuse this man a place in her 
 home ? Then she thought of her own Tom 
 no longer with her, and of her fight alone 
 and without him. What would he have 
 thought of it ? How would he have advised 
 her to act ? He had always hoped such great 
 things for Jennie. Would he now be willing 
 to give her to this stranger ? If she could 
 only talk to her Tom about it all ! 
 
 As she sat, her head in her hand, the smok- 
 ing stable, the eager wild-eyed crowd, the 
 dead horses, faded away and became to her 
 as a dream. She heard nothing but the voice 
 of Jennie and her lover, saw only the white 
 face of her boy. A sickening sense of utter 
 loneliness swept over her. She rose and 
 moved away. 
 
 149 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 During all this time Cully was watching 
 the dying embers, and when all danger was 
 over, — only the small stable with its two 
 horses had been destroyed, — he led the Big 
 Gray back to the pump, washed his head, 
 sponging his eyes and mouth, and housed 
 him in the big stable. Then he vanished. 
 
 Immediately on leaving the Big Gray, Cully 
 had dodged behind the stable, run rapidly up 
 the hill, keeping close to the fence, and had 
 come out behind a group of scattering specta- 
 tors. There he began a series of complicated 
 manoeuvres, mostly on his toes, lifting his 
 head over those of the crowd, and ending 
 in a sudden dart forward and as sudden a 
 halt, within a few inches of young Billy Mc- 
 Gaw's coat-collar. 
 
 Billy turned pale, but held his ground. He 
 felt sure Cully would not dare attack him 
 with so many others about. Then, again, the 
 glow of the smouldering cinders had a fascina- 
 tion for him that held him to the spot. 
 
 Cully also seemed spellbound. The only 
 view of the smoking ruins that satisfied him 
 seemed to be the one he caught over young 
 McGaw's shoulder. He moved closer and 
 closer, sniffing about cautiously, as a dog 
 150 
 
CULLY'S NIGHT OUT 
 
 would on a trail. Indeed, the closer he got 
 to Billy's coat the more absorbed he seemed 
 to be in the view beyond. 
 
 Here an extraordinary thing happened. 
 There was a dipping of Cully's head between 
 Billy's legs, a raising of both arms, grabbing 
 Billy around the waist, and in a flash the 
 hope of the house of McGaw was swept off 
 his feet, Cully beneath him, and in full run to- 
 ward Tom's house. The bystanders laughed ; 
 they thought it only a boyish trick. Billy 
 kicked and struggled, but Cully held on. 
 When they were clear of the crowd, Cully 
 shook him to the ground and grabbed him by 
 the coat-collar. 
 
 " Say, young feller, where wuz ye when de 
 fire started ? " 
 
 At this Billy broke into a howl, and one 
 of the crowd, some distance off, looked up. 
 Cully clapped his hand over his mouth : 
 " None o' that, or I '11 mash yer mug — see ? " 
 standing over him with clenched fist. 
 
 "I war n't nowheres," stammered Billy. 
 " Say, take yer hands off 'n me — ye ain't " — 
 
 "T'ell I ain't! Ye answer me straight — 
 see? — or I '11 punch yer face in," tightening 
 his grasp. "What wuz ye a-doin' when de 
 151 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 circus come out — an', anoder t'ing, what 's 
 dis cologne yer got on yer coat ? Maybe next 
 time ye climb a fence ye '11 keep from spillin' 
 it, see ? Oh, I 'm onter ye. Ye set de stable 
 afire. Dat 's what 's de matter." 
 
 " I hope I may die — I wuz a-carryin' de 
 can er ker'sene home, an' when de roof fell 
 in I wuz up on de fence so I c'u'd see de fire, 
 an' de can slipped " — 
 
 " What fence ? " said Cully, shaking him 
 as a terrier would a rat. 
 
 "Why dat fence on de hill." 
 
 That was enough for Cully. He had his 
 man. The lie had betrayed him. Without a 
 word he jerked the cowardly boy from the 
 ground, and marched him straight into the 
 kitchen : — 
 
 " Say, Carl, I got de fire-bug. Ye kin 
 smell der ker'sene on his clo'es." 
 '52 
 
XIII 
 
 MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 
 
 McGAW had watched the fire from his 
 upper window with mingled joy and 
 fear — joy that Tom's property was on fire, 
 and fear that it would be put out before she 
 would be ruined. He had been waiting all 
 the evening for Crimmins, who had failed to 
 arrive. Billy had not been at home since 
 supper, so he could get no details as to the 
 amount of the damage from that source. In 
 this emergency he sent next morning for 
 Quigg to make a reconnaissance in the vicin- 
 ity of the enemy's camp, ascertain how badly 
 Tom had been crippled, and learn whether 
 her loss would prevent her signing the con- 
 tract the following night. Mr. Quigg ac- 
 cepted the mission, the more willingly be- 
 cause he wanted to settle certain affairs of 
 his own. Jennie had avoided him lately, — 
 why he could not tell, — and he determined, 
 before communicating to his employer the 
 153 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 results of his inquiries about Tom, to know 
 exactly what his own chances were with the 
 girl. He could slip over to the house while 
 Tom was in the city, and leave before she 
 returned. 
 
 On his way, the next day, he robbed a gar- 
 den fence of a mass of lilacs, breaking off 
 the leaves as he walked. When he reached 
 the door of the big stable he stopped for 
 a moment, glanced cautiously in to see if he 
 could find any preparations for the new 
 work, and then, making a mental note of 
 the surroundings, followed the path to the 
 porch. 
 
 Pop opened the door. He knew Quigg 
 only by sight — an unpleasant sight, he 
 thought, as he looked into his hesitating, 
 wavering eyes. 
 
 " It 's a bad fire ye had, Mr. Mullins," said 
 Quigg, seating himself in the rocker, the 
 blossoms half strangled in his grasp. 
 
 " Yis, purty bad, but small loss, thank 
 God," said Pop quietly. 
 
 " That lets her out of the contract, don't 
 it ? " said Quigg. " She '11 be short of horses 
 now." 
 
 Pop made no answer. He did not intend 
 i54 
 
MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 
 
 to give Mr. Quigg any information that might 
 comfort him. 
 
 " Were ye insured ? " asked Quigg, in a 
 cautious tone, his eyes on the lilacs. 
 
 " Oh, yis, ivery pinny on what was burned, 
 so Mary tells me." 
 
 Quigg caught his breath ; the rumor in 
 the village was the other way. Why did n't 
 Crimmins make a clean sweep of it and burn 
 'em all at once, he said to himself. 
 
 " I brought some flowers over for Miss 
 Jennie," said Quigg, regaining his composure. 
 "Is she in ? " 
 
 "Yis; I'll call her." Gentle and appar- 
 ently harmless as Gran'pop was, men like 
 Quigg somehow never looked him steadily in 
 the eye. 
 
 " I was tellin' Mr. Mullins I brought ye 
 over some flowers," said Quigg, turning to 
 Jennie as she entered, and handing her the 
 bunch without leaving his seat, as if it had 
 been a pair of shoes. 
 
 " You 're very kind, Mr. Quigg," said the 
 girl, laying them on the table, and still standing. 
 
 " I hear'd your brother Patsy was near 
 smothered till Dutchy got him out. Was ye 
 there ? " 
 
 x 55 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Jennie bit her lip and her heart quickened. 
 Carl's sobriquet in the village, coming from 
 such lips, sent the hot blood to her cheeks. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Nilsson saved his life," she 
 answered slowly, with girlish dignity, a back- 
 ward rush filling her heart as she remembered 
 Carl staggering out of the burning stable, 
 Patsy held close to his breast. 
 
 " The fellers in Rockville say ye think it 
 was set afire. I see Justice Rowan turned 
 Billy McGaw loose. Do ye suspect anybody 
 else ? Some says a tramp crawled in and 
 upset his pipe." 
 
 This lie was coined on the spot and issued 
 immediately to see if it would pass. 
 
 " Mother says she knows who did it, and 
 it '11 all come out in time. Cully found the 
 can this morning," said Jennie, leaning 
 against the table. 
 
 Quigg's jaw fell and his brow knit as Jen- 
 nie spoke. That was just like the fool, he 
 said to himself. Why did n't he get the stuff 
 in a bottle and then break it ? 
 
 But the subject was too dangerous to lin- 
 ger over, so he began talking of the dance 
 down at the Town Hall, and the meeting last 
 Sunday after church. He asked her if she 
 iS6 
 
MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 
 
 would go with him to the " sociable " they 
 were going to have at No. 4 Truck-house ; 
 and when she said she could n't, — that her 
 mother did n't want her to go out, etc., — ■ 
 Quigg moved his chair closer, with the re- 
 mark that the old woman was always putting 
 her oar in and spoiling things ; the way she 
 was going on with the Union would ruin her ; 
 she 'd better join in with the boys, and be 
 friendly ; they 'd "down her yet if she did n't." 
 
 " I hope nothing will happen to mother, 
 Mr. Quigg," said Jennie, in an anxious tone, 
 as she sank into a chair. 
 
 Quigg misunderstood the movement, and 
 moved his own closer. 
 
 " There won't nothin' happen any more, 
 Jennie, if you '11 do as I say." 
 
 It was the first time he had ever called her 
 by her name. She could not understand how 
 he dared. She wished Carl would come in. 
 
 " Will you do it ? " asked Quigg eagerly, 
 his cunning face and mean eyes turned to- 
 ward her. 
 
 Jennie never raised her head. Her cheeks 
 were burning. Quigg went on, — 
 
 " I 've been keepin' company with ye, Jen- 
 nie, all winter, and the fellers is guyin' me 
 
 «57 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 about it. You know I 'm solid with the 
 Union and can help yer mother, and if ye '11 
 let me speak to Father McCluskey next Sun- 
 day " — 
 
 The girl sprang from her chair. 
 
 " I won't have you talk that way to me, 
 Dennis Quigg ! I never said a word to you, 
 and you know it." Her mother's spirit was 
 now flashing in her eyes. " You ought to be 
 ashamed of yourself to come here — and" — 
 
 Then she broke down. 
 
 Another woman would have managed it 
 differently, perhaps, — by a laugh, a smile of 
 contempt, or a frigid refusal. This mere 
 child, stung to the quick by Quigg's insult, 
 had only her tears in defense. The Walking 
 Delegate turned his head and looked out of 
 the window. Then he caught up his hat and 
 without a word to the sobbing girl hastily left 
 the room. 
 
 Tom was just entering the lower gate. 
 Quigg saw her and tried to dodge behind the 
 tool-house, but it was too late, so he faced 
 her. Tom's keen eye caught the sly move- 
 ment and the quickly altered expression. 
 Some new trickery was in the air, she knew ; 
 she detected it in every line of Quigg's face. 
 158 
 
MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 
 
 What was McGaw up to now ? she asked 
 herself. Was he after Carl and the men, or 
 getting ready to burn the other stable ? 
 
 " Good -morning, Mr. Quigg. Ain't ye 
 lost ? " she asked coldly. 
 
 " Oh no," said Quigg, with a forced laugh. 
 " I come over to see if I could help about the 
 fire." 
 
 It was the first thing that came into his 
 head ; he had hoped to pass with only a nod 
 of greeting. 
 
 " Did ye ? " replied Tom thoughtfully. She 
 saw he had lied, but she led him on. " What 
 kind of help did ye think of givin' ? The in- 
 surance company will pay the money, the two 
 horses is buried, an' we begin diggin' post- 
 holes for a new stable in the mornin'. Per- 
 haps ye were thinkin' of lendin' a hand yer- 
 self. If ye did, I can put ye alongside of 
 Carl ; one shovel might do for both of ye." 
 
 Quigg colored and laughed uneasily. Some- 
 body had told her, then, how Carl had threat- 
 ened him with uplifted shovel when he tried 
 to coax the Swede away. 
 
 " No, I 'm not diggin' these days ; but I 've 
 got a pull wid the insurance adjuster, and 
 might git an extra allowance for yer." This 
 J 59 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 was cut from whole cloth. He had never 
 known an adjuster in his life. 
 
 "What's that?" asked Tom, still looking 
 square at him, Quigg squirming under her 
 glance like a worm on a pin. 
 
 "Well, the company can't tell how much 
 feed was in the bins, and tools, and sech 
 like," he said, with another laugh. 
 
 A laugh is always a safe parry when a pair 
 of clear gray search-light eyes are cutting 
 into one like a rapier. 
 
 " An' yer idea is for me to git paid for stuff 
 that was n't burned up, is it ? " 
 
 "Well, that's as how the adjuster says. 
 Sometimes he sees it an' sometimes he don't 
 — that's where the pull comes in." 
 
 Tom put her arms akimbo, her favorite 
 attitude when her anger began to rise. 
 
 " Oh I see ! The pull is in bribin' the ad- 
 juster, as ye call him, so he can cheat the 
 company." 
 
 Quigg shrugged his shoulders ; that part 
 of the transaction was a mere trifle. What 
 were companies made for but to be cheated ? 
 
 Tom stood for a minute looking him all 
 over. 
 
 " Dennis Quigg," she said slowly, weighing 
 160 
 
MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 
 
 each word, her eyes riveted on his face, 
 " ye 're a very sharp young man ; ye 're so 
 very sharp that I wonder ye 've gone so long 
 without cuttin' yerself. But one thing I tell 
 ye, an' that is, if ye keep on the way ye 're 
 a-goin' ye '11 land where you belong, and 
 that 's up the river in a potato-bug suit of 
 clothes. Turn yer head this way, Quigg. 
 Did ye niver in yer whole life think there was 
 somethin' worth the havin' in bein' honest an' 
 clean an' square, an' holdin' yer head up like 
 a man, instead of skulkin' round like a thief ? 
 What ye 're up to this mornin' I don't know 
 yet, but I want to tell ye it 's the wrong time 
 o' day for ye to make calls, and the night 's 
 not much better, unless ye 're particularly 
 invited." 
 
 Quigg smothered a curse and turned on his 
 heel toward the village. When he reached 
 O'Leary's, Dempsey of the Executive Com- 
 mittee met him at the door. He and Mc- 
 Gaw had spent the whole morning in devising 
 plans to keep Tom out of the board-room. 
 
 Quigg' s report was not reassuring. She 
 would be paid her insurance money, he said, 
 and would certainly be at the meeting that 
 night. 
 
 161 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 The three adjourned to the room over the 
 bar. McGaw began pacing the floor, his 
 long arms hooked behind his back. He had 
 passed a sleepless night, and every hour now 
 added to his anxiety. His face was a dull 
 gray yellow, and his eyes were sunken. Now 
 and then he would tug at his collar nervously. 
 As he walked he clutched his fingers, burying 
 the nails in the palms, the red hair on his 
 wrists bristling like spiders' legs. Dempsey 
 sat at the table watching him calmly out of 
 the corner of his eye. 
 
 After a pause Quigg leaned over, his lips 
 close to Dempsey's ear. Then he drew a 
 plan on the back of an old wine-list. It 
 marked the position of the door in Tom's 
 stable, and that of a path which ran across 
 lots and was concealed from her house by a 
 low fence. Dempsey studied it a moment, 
 nodding at Ouigg's whispered explanations, 
 and passed it to McGaw, repeating Quigg's 
 words. McGaw stopped and bent his head. 
 A dull gleam flashed out of his smouldering 
 eyes. The lines of his face hardened and 
 his jaw tightened. For some minutes he 
 stood irresolute, gazing vacantly over the bud- 
 ding trees through the window. Then he 
 162 
 
MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 
 
 turned sharply, swallowed a brimming glass 
 of raw whiskey, and left the room. 
 
 When the sound of his footsteps had died 
 away, Dempsey looked at Quigg meaningly 
 and gave a low laugh. 
 
 163 
 
XIV 
 
 BLOSSOM-WEEK 
 
 IT was "blossom-week," and every garden 
 and hedge flaunted its bloom in the 
 soft air. All about was the perfume of flow- 
 ers, the odor of fresh grass, and that peculiar 
 earthy smell of new-made garden beds but 
 lately sprinkled. Behind the hill overlooking 
 the harbor the sun was just sinking into the 
 sea. Some sentinel cedars guarding its crest 
 stood out in clear relief against the golden 
 light. About their tops, in wide circles, 
 swooped a flock of crows. 
 
 Gran'pop and Tom sat on the front porch, 
 their chairs touching, his hand on hers. She 
 had been telling him of Quigg's visit that 
 morning. She had changed her dress for a 
 new one. The dress was of brown cloth, and 
 had been made in the village — tight where 
 it should be loose, and loose where it should 
 be tight. She had put it on, she told Pop, to 
 164 
 
BLOSSOM-WEEK 
 
 make a creditable appearance before the 
 board that night. 
 
 Jennie was flitting in and out between the 
 sitting-room and the garden, her hands full 
 of blossoms, filling the china jars on the man- 
 tel : none of them contained Quigg's con- 
 tribution. Patsy was flat on his back on the 
 small patch of green surrounding the porch, 
 playing circus-elephant with Stumpy, who 
 stood over him with leveled head. 
 
 Up the hill, but a few rods away, Cully 
 was grazing the Big Gray — the old horse 
 munching tufts of fresh, sweet grass sprin- 
 kled with dandelions. Cully walked beside 
 him. Now and then he lifted one of his legs, 
 examining the hoof critically for possible 
 tender places. 
 
 There was nothing the matter with the 
 Gray ; the old horse was still sound : but it 
 satisfied Cully to be assured, and it satisfied, 
 too, a certain yearning tenderness in his heart 
 toward his old chum. Once in a while he 
 would pat the Gray's neck, smoothing his 
 ragged, half worn mane, addressing him all 
 the while in words of endearment expressed 
 in a slang positively profane and utterly with- 
 out meaning except to these two. 
 
 165 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Suddenly Jennie's cheek flushed as she 
 came out on the porch. Carl was coming up 
 the path. The young Swede was bareheaded, 
 the short blond curls glistening in the light ; 
 his throat was bare too, so that one could see 
 the big muscles in his neck. Jennie always 
 liked him with his throat bare ; it reminded 
 her of a hero she had once seen in a play, 
 who stormed a fort and rescued all the starv- 
 ing women. 
 
 " Da brown horse seek ; batta come to 
 stabble an' see him," Carl said, going direct 
 to the porch, where he stood in front of Tom, 
 resting one hand on his hip, his eyes never 
 wandering from her face. He knew where 
 Jennie was, but he never looked. 
 
 "What's the matter with him?" asked 
 Tom, her thoughts far away at the moment. 
 
 " I don' know ; he no eat da oats en da 
 box." 
 
 "Will he drink ? " said Tom, awakening to 
 the importance of the information. 
 
 "Yas; 'mos' two buckets." 
 
 "It's fever he's got," she said, turning to 
 
 Pop. " I thought that yisterday noon when I 
 
 seen him a-workin'. All right, Carl ; I '11 be 
 
 down before I go to the board meetin'. An' 
 
 166 
 
BLOSSOM-WEEK 
 
 see here, Carl ; ye 'd better git ready to go 
 wid me. I '11 start in a couple o' hours. Will 
 it suit ye, Gran'pop, if Carl goes with me ? " 
 — patting her father's shoulder. " If ye keep 
 on a-worritin' I '11 hev to hire a cop to follow 
 me round." 
 
 Carl lingered for a moment on the steps. 
 Perhaps Tom had some further orders ; per- 
 haps, too, Jennie would come out again. In- 
 voluntarily his eye wandered toward the open 
 door, and then he turned to go. Jennie's 
 heart sprang up in her throat. She had seen 
 from behind the curtains the shade of disap- 
 pointment that crossed her lover's face. She 
 could suffer herself, but she could not see 
 Carl unhappy. In an instant she was beside 
 her mother. Anything to keep Carl — she 
 did not care what. 
 
 "Oh, Carl, will you bring the ladder so I 
 can reach the long branches ? " she said, her 
 quick wit helping her with a subterfuge. 
 
 Carl turned and glanced at Tom. He 
 felt the look in her face and could read her 
 thoughts. 
 
 If Tom had heard Jennie she never moved. 
 This affair must end in some way, she said 
 to herself. Why had she not sent him away 
 167 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 long before ? How could she do it now when 
 he had risked his life to save Patsy ? 
 
 Then she answered firmly, still without 
 turning her head, " No, Jennie ; there won't 
 be time. Carl must get ready to " — 
 
 Pop laid his hand on hers. 
 
 " There 's plinty o' toime, Mary. Ye '11 git 
 the ladder behint the kitchen door, Carl. I 
 hed it ther' mesilf this mornin'." 
 
 Carl found the ladder, steadied it against 
 the tree, and guided Jennie's little feet till 
 they reached the topmost round, holding on 
 to her skirts so that she should not fall. 
 Above their heads the branches twined and 
 interlaced, shedding their sweetest blossoms 
 over their happy upturned faces. The old 
 man's eyes lightened as he watched them for 
 some moments ; then, turning to Tom, his 
 voice full of tenderness, he said : — 
 
 " Carl 's a foine lad, Mary ; ye '11 do no 
 better for Jinnie." 
 
 Tom did not answer ; her eyes were on the 
 cedars where the crows were flying, black 
 silhouettes against the yellow sky. 
 
 " Did I shtop ye an' break yer heart whin 
 ye wint off wid yer own Tom ? What wuz he 
 but an honest lad thet loved ye, an' he wid 
 1 68 
 
Above tJieir heads the branches twitted 
 
BLOSSOM-WEEK 
 
 not a pinny in his pocket but the fare that 
 brought ye both to the new counthry." 
 
 Tom's eyes filled. She could not see the 
 cedars now. All the hill was swimming in 
 light. 
 
 " Oi hev watched Carl sence he fust come, 
 Mary. It 's a good mither some'er's as has 
 lost a foine b'y. W'u'd n't ye be lonely 
 yersilf ef ye 'd come here wid nobody to 
 touch yer hand ? " 
 
 Tom shivered and covered her face. Who 
 was more lonely than she — she who had 
 hungered for the same companionship that 
 she was denying Jennie ; she who had longed 
 for somebody to stand between her and the 
 world, some hand to touch, some arm' to lean 
 on ; she who must play the man always — the 
 man and the mother too ! 
 
 Pop went on, stroking her strong, firm 
 hand with his stiff, shriveled fingers. He 
 never looked at her; his face was now too 
 turned toward the dying sun. 
 
 " Do ye remimber the day ye left me in the 
 ould counthry, Mary, wid yer own Tom ; an' 
 how I walked wid ye to the turnin' of the 
 road ? It wuz spring thin, an' the hedges all 
 white wid blossoms. Look at thim two over 
 169 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 there, Mary, wid their arms full o' flowers. 
 Don't be breakin' their hearts, child." 
 
 Tom turned and slipped her arm around 
 the old man's neck, her head sinking on his 
 shoulder. The tears were under her eyelids ; 
 her heart was bursting ; only her pride sus- 
 tained her. Then in a half-whispered voice, 
 like a child telling its troubles, she said : — 
 
 "Ye don't know — ye don't know, Gran'pop. 
 The dear God knows it 's not on account of 
 meself. It 's Tom I 'm thinkin' of night an' 
 day — me Tom, me Tom. She 's his child as 
 well as mine. If he could only help me ! He 
 wanted such great things for Jennie. It ud 
 be easier if he had n't saved Patsy. Don't 
 speak to me ag'in about it, father dear ; it 
 hurts me." 
 
 The old man rose from his chair and walked 
 slowly into the house. All his talks with his 
 daughter ended in this way. It was always 
 what Tom would have thought. Why should 
 a poor crazy cripple like her husband, shut up 
 in an asylum, make trouble for Jennie ? 
 
 When the light faded and the trees grew 
 
 indistinct in the gloom, Tom still sat where 
 
 Pop had left her. Soon the shadows fell in 
 
 the little valley, and the hill beyond the 
 
 170 
 
BLOSSOM-WEEK 
 
 cedars lost itself in the deepening haze that 
 now crept in from the tranquil sea. 
 
 Carl's voice calling to Cully to take in 
 the Gray roused her to consciousness. She 
 pushed back her chair, stood for an instant 
 watching Carl romping with Patsy, and then 
 walked slowly toward the stable. 
 
 By the time she reached the water-trough 
 her old manner had returned. Her step be- 
 came once more elastic and firm ; her strong 
 will asserted itself. She had work to do, and 
 at once. In two hours the board would meet. 
 She needed all her energies and resources. 
 The lovers must wait ; she could not decide 
 any question for them now. 
 
 As she passed the stable window a man 
 in a fur cap raised his head cautiously above 
 the low fence and shrank back into the 
 shadow. 
 
 Tom threw open the door and felt along 
 the sill for the lantern and matches. They 
 were not in their accustomed place. The 
 man crouched, ran noiselessly toward the rear 
 entrance, and crept in behind a stall. Tom 
 laid her hand on the haunches of the horse 
 and began rolling back his blanket. The man 
 drew himself up slowly until his shoulders 
 171 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 were on a level with the planking. Tom 
 moved a step and turned her face. The man 
 raised his arm, whirled a hammer high in the 
 air, and brought it down upon her head. 
 
 When Cully led the Big Gray into his stall, 
 a moment later, he stepped into a pool of 
 blood. 
 
 172 
 
XV 
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 
 
 AT the appointed hour the Board of Trus- 
 tees met in the hall over the post-office. 
 The usual loungers filled the room — mem- 
 bers of the Union, and others who had 
 counted on a piece of the highway pie when 
 it was cut. Dempsey, Crimmins, and Quigg 
 sat outside the rail, against the wall. They 
 were waiting for McGaw, who had not been 
 seen since the afternoon. 
 
 The president was in his accustomed place. 
 The five gentlemen of leisure, the veterinary 
 surgeon, and the other trustees occupied their 
 several chairs. The roll had been called, and 
 every man had answered to his name. The 
 occasion being one of much importance, a full 
 board was required. 
 
 As the minute-hand neared the hour of nine 
 Dempsey became uneasy. He started every 
 time a new-comer mounted the stairs. Where 
 was McGaw ? No one had seen him since 
 
 i73 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 he swallowed the tumblerful of whiskey and 
 disappeared from O'Leary's, a few hours be- 
 fore. 
 
 The president rapped for order, and an- 
 nounced that the board was ready to sign the 
 contract with Thomas Grogan for the hauling 
 and delivery of the broken stone required for 
 public highways. 
 
 There was no response. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Grogan here ? " asked the presi- 
 dent, looking over the room and waiting for 
 a reply. 
 
 " Is any one here who represents her ? " he 
 repeated, after a pause, rising in his seat as 
 he spoke. 
 
 No one answered. The only sound heard 
 in the room was that of the heavy step of a 
 man mounting the stairs. 
 
 " Is there any one here who can speak for 
 Mrs. Thomas Grogan ? " called the president 
 again, in a louder voice. 
 
 " I can," said the man with the heavy 
 tread, who proved to be the foreman at the 
 brewery. " She won't live till mornin' ; one 
 of her horses kicked her and broke her 
 skull, so McGaw told me." 
 
 " Broke her skull ! My God ! man, how do 
 i74 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 
 
 you know?" demanded the president, his 
 voice trembling with excitement. 
 
 Every man's face was now turned toward 
 the new-comer ; a momentary thrill of horror 
 ran through the assemblage. 
 
 " I heard it at the druggist's. One of her 
 boys was over for medicine. Dr. Mason 
 sewed up her head. He was drivin' by, on 
 his way to Quarantine, when it happened." 
 
 "What Dr. Mason?" asked a trustee, 
 eager for details. 
 
 " The man what used to be at Quarantine 
 seven years ago. He 's app'inted ag'in." 
 
 Dempsey caught up his hat and hurriedly 
 left the room, followed by Quigg and Crim- 
 mins. McGaw, he said to himself, as he ran 
 downstairs, must be blind drunk, not to come 
 
 to the meeting. " him ! What if he 
 
 gives everything away ! " he added aloud. 
 
 "This news is awful," said the president. 
 " I am very sorry for Mrs. Grogan and her 
 children — she was a fine woman. It is a 
 serious matter, too, for the village. The 
 highway work ought to commence at once ; 
 the roads need it. We may now have to 
 advertise again. That would delay every- 
 thing for a month." 
 
 *75 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 " Well, there 's other bids," said another 
 trustee, — one of the gentlemen of leisure, — 
 ignoring the president's sympathy, and hope- 
 ful now of a possible slice on his own account. 
 " What 's the matter with McGaw's proposal ? 
 There 's not much difference in the price. 
 Perhaps he would come down to the Grogan 
 figure. Is Mr. McGaw here, or anybody who 
 can speak for him ? " 
 
 Justice Rowan sat against the wall. The 
 overzealous trustee had exactly expressed his 
 own wishes and anxieties. He wanted Mc- 
 Gaw's chances settled at once. If they failed, 
 there was Rowan's own brother who might 
 come in for the work, the justice sharing of 
 course in the profits. 
 
 " In the absence of me client," said Rowan, 
 looking about the room, and drawing in his 
 breath with an important air, " I suppose I 
 can ripresint him. I think, however, that if 
 your honorable boord will go on with the 
 other business before you, Mr. McGaw will 
 be on hand in half an hour himself. In the 
 mean time I will hunt him up." 
 
 " I move," said the Scotch surgeon, in a 
 voice that showed how deeply he had been 
 affected, " that the whole matter be laid on 
 176 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 
 
 the table for a week, until we know for cer- 
 tain whether poor Mrs. Grogan is killed or 
 not. I can hardly credit it. It is very sel- 
 dom that a horse kicks a woman." 
 
 Nobody having seconded this motion, the 
 chair did not put it. The fact was that every 
 man was afraid to move. The majority of 
 the trustees, who favored McGaw, were in 
 the dark as to what effect Tom's death would 
 have upon the bids. The law might require 
 readvertising and hence a new competition, 
 and perhaps somebody much worse for them 
 than Tom might turn up and take the work 
 ■ — somebody living outside of the village. 
 Then none of them would get a finger in the 
 pie. Worse than all, the cutting of it might 
 have to be referred to the corporation counsel, 
 Judge Bowker. What his opinion would be 
 was past finding out. He was beyond the 
 reach of "pulls," and followed the law to the 
 letter. 
 
 The minority — a minority of two, the 
 president and the veterinary surgeon — began 
 to distrust the spirit of McGaw's adherents. 
 It looked to the president as if a " deal " 
 were in the air. 
 
 The Scotchman, practical, sober-minded, 
 *77 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 sensible man as he was, had old-fashioned 
 ideas of honesty and fair play. He had liked 
 Tom from the first time he saw her, — he 
 had looked after her stables professionally, 
 — and he did not intend to see her, dead or 
 alive, thrown out, without making a fight 
 for her. 
 
 "I move," said he, "that the president 
 appoint a committee of this board to jump 
 into the nearest wagon, drive to Mrs. Gro- 
 gan's, and find out whether she is still alive. 
 If she 's dead, that settles it ; but if she 's 
 alive, I will protest against anything being 
 done about this matter for ten days. It 
 won't take twenty minutes to find out ; mean- 
 time we can take up the unfinished business 
 of the last meeting." 
 
 One of the gentlemen of leisure seconded 
 this motion ; it was carried unanimously, and 
 this gentleman of leisure was himself ap- 
 pointed courier, and left the room in a hurry. 
 He had hardly reached the street when he 
 was back again, followed closely by Demp- 
 sey, Quigg, Crimmins, Justice Rowan, and, 
 last of all, fumbling with his fur cap, deathly 
 pale, and entirely sober — Dan McGaw. 
 
 " There's no use of my going," said the 
 
 i 7 8 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 
 
 courier trustee, taking his seat. "Grogan 
 won't live an hour, if she ain't dead now. 
 She had a sick horse that wanted looking 
 after, and she went into the stable without a 
 light, and he let drive, and broke her skull. 
 She 's got a gash the length of your hand — 
 was n't that it, Mr. McGaw ? " 
 
 McGaw nodded his head. 
 
 " Yes ; that 's about it," he said. The voice 
 seemed to come from his stomach, it was so 
 hollow. 
 
 "Did you see her, Mr. McGaw?" asked 
 the Scotchman in a positive tone. 
 
 " How c'u'd I be a-seein' her whin I been in 
 New Yorruk 'mos' all day ? D' ye think I 'm 
 runnin' roun' to ivery stable in the place ? 
 I wuz a-comin' 'cross lots whin I heared it. 
 They says the horse had blin' staggers." 
 
 "How do you know, then?" asked the 
 Scotchman suspiciously. " Who told you the 
 horse kicked her ? " 
 
 " Well, I dunno ; I think it wuz some un " — 
 
 Dempsey looked at him and knit his brow. 
 McGaw stopped. 
 
 "Don't you know enough of a horse to 
 know he could n't kick with blind staggers ? " 
 insisted the Scotchman. 
 179 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 McGaw did not answer. 
 
 " Does anybody know any of the facts con- 
 nected with this dreadful accident to Mrs. 
 Grogan ? " asked the president. " Have you 
 heard anything, Mr. Quigg?" 
 
 Mr. Quigg had heard absolutely nothing, 
 and had not seen Mrs. Grogan for months. 
 Mr. Crimmins was equally ignorant, and so 
 were several other gentlemen. Here a voice 
 came from the back of the room. 
 
 " I met Dr. Mason, sir, an hour ago, after he 
 had attended Tom Grogan. He was on his 
 way to Quarantine in his buggy. He said he 
 left her insensible after dressin' the wound. 
 He thought she might not live till mornin'." 
 
 "May I ask your name, sir?" asked the 
 president in a courteous tone. 
 
 "Peter Lathers. I am yardmaster at the 
 U. S. Lighthouse Depot." 
 
 The title, and the calm way in which La- 
 thers spoke, convinced the president and the 
 room. Everybody realized that Tom's life 
 hung by a thread. The Scotchman still had 
 a lingering doubt. He also wished to clear 
 up the blind-staggers theory. 
 
 " Did he say how she was hurt ? " asked the 
 Scotchman. 
 
 180 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 
 
 " Yes. He said he was a-drivin' by when 
 they picked her up, and he was dead sure that 
 somebody had hid in the stable and knocked 
 her on the head with a club." 
 
 McGaw steadied himself with his hand and 
 grasped the seat of his chair. The sweat 
 was rolling from his face. He seemed afraid 
 to look up, lest some other eye might catch 
 his own and read his thoughts. If he had 
 only seen Lathers come in ! 
 
 Lathers's announcement, coupled with the 
 Scotchman's well-known knowledge of equine 
 diseases discrediting the blind-staggers the- 
 ory, produced a profound sensation. Heads 
 were put together, and low whispers were 
 heard. Dempsey, Quigg, and Crimmins did 
 not move a muscle. 
 
 The Scotchman again broke the silence. 
 
 "There seems to be no question, gentle- 
 men, that the poor woman is badly hurt ; but 
 she is still alive, and while she breathes we 
 have no right to take this work from her. 
 It 's not decent to serve a woman so ; and I 
 think, too, it 's illegal. I again move that the 
 whole matter be laid upon the table." 
 
 This motion was not put, nobody second- 
 ing it. 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Then Justice Rowan rose. The speech of 
 the justice was seasoned with a brogue as deli- 
 cate in flavor as the garlic in a Spanish salad. 
 
 " Mr. Prisident and Gintlemen of the Hon- 
 orable Boord of Village Trustees," said the 
 justice, throwing back his coat. The elabo- 
 rate opening compelled attention at once. 
 Such courtesies were too seldom heard in 
 their deliberations, thought the members, as 
 they lay back in their chairs to listen. 
 
 " No wan can be moore pained than meself 
 that so estimable a woman as Mrs. Grogan — 
 a woman who fills so honorably her every 
 station in life — should at this moment be 
 stricken down either by the hand of an as- 
 sassin or the hoof of a horse. Such acts in 
 a law-abidin' community like Rockville bring 
 with them the deepest detistation and the 
 profoundest sympathy. No wan, I am sure, 
 is more touched by her misforchune than me 
 worthy friend Mr. Daniel McGaw, who by this 
 direct interposition of Providence is foorced 
 into the position of being compelled to assert 
 his rights befoore your honorable body, with 
 full assurance that there is no tribunal in the 
 land to which he could apply which would 
 lind a more willing ear." 
 182 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 
 
 It was this sort of thing that made Rowan 
 popular. 
 
 " But, gintlemen," — here the justice curry- 
 combed his front hair with his fingers — 
 greasy, jet-black hair, worn long, as befitted 
 his position, — " this is not a question of 
 sympathy, but a question of law. Your hon- 
 orable boord advertoised some time since for 
 certain supplies needed for the growth and 
 development of this most important of the 
 villages of Staten Island. In this call it was 
 most positively and clearly stated that the 
 contract was to be awarded to the lowest 
 risponsible bidder who gave the proper bonds. 
 Two risponses were made to this call, wan by 
 Mrs. Grogan, acting on behalf of her hus- 
 band, — well known to be a hopeless cripple 
 in wan of the many charitable institootions 
 of our noble State, — and the other by our 
 distinguished fellow-townsman, Mr. Daniel 
 McGaw, whom I have the honor to ripresint. 
 With that strict sinse of justice which has 
 always characterized the decisions of this 
 honorable boord, the contract was promptly 
 awarded to Thomas Grogan, he being the 
 lowest bidder ; and my client, Daniel McGaw, 
 — honest Daniel McGaw I should call him 
 
 *&3 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 if his presence did not deter me, — stood wan 
 side in obadience to the will of the people and 
 the laws of the State, and accepted his defate 
 with that calmness which always distinguishes 
 the hard-workin' sons of toil, who are not 
 only the bone and sinoo of our land, but its 
 honor and proide. But, gintlemen," — run- 
 ning his hand lightly through his hair, and 
 then laying it in the bulging lapels of his now 
 half-buttoned coat, — " there were other con- 
 ditions accompanying these proposals ; to wit, 
 that within tin days from said openin' the 
 successful bidder should appear befoore this 
 honorable body, and then and there duly 
 affix his signatoor to the aforesaid contracts, 
 already prepared by the attorney of this 
 boord, my honored associate, Judge Bowker. 
 Now, gintlemen, I ask you to look at the 
 clock, whose calm face, like a rising moon, 
 presides over the deliberations of this boord, 
 and note the passin' hour ; and then I ask 
 you to cast your eyes over this vast assem- 
 blage and see if Thomas Grogan, or any 
 wan ripresinting him or her, or who in any 
 way is connected with him or her, is within 
 the confines of this noble hall, to execute the 
 mandates of this distinguished boord. Can it 
 184 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 
 
 be believed for an instant that if Mrs. Grogan, 
 acting for her partly dismimbered husband, 
 Mr. Thomas Grogan, had intinded to sign this 
 contract, she would not have dispatched on 
 the wings of the wind some Mercury, fleet of 
 foot, to infarm this boord of her desire for 
 postponement ? I demand in the interests of 
 justice that the contract be awarded to the 
 lowest risponsible bidder who is ready to sign 
 the contract with proper bonds, whether that 
 bidder is Grogan, McGaw, Jones, Robinson, 
 or Smith." 
 
 There was a burst of applause and great 
 stamping of feet ; the tide of sympathy had 
 changed. Rowan had perhaps won a few 
 more votes. This pleased him evidently more 
 than his hope of cutting the contract pie. 
 McGaw began to regain some of his color 
 and lose some of his nervousness. Rowan's 
 speech had quieted him. 
 
 The president gravely rapped for order. It 
 was wonderful how much backbone and dig- 
 nity and self-respect the justice's very flat- 
 tering remarks had injected into the nine 
 trustees — no, eight, for the Scotchman fully 
 understood and despised Rowan's oratorical 
 powers. 
 
 185 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 The Scotchman was on his feet in an in- 
 stant. 
 
 " I have listened," he said, " to the talk 
 that Justice Rowan has given us. It 's very 
 fine and tonguey, but it smothers up the 
 facts. You can't rob this woman " — 
 
 " Question ! question ! " came from half a 
 dozen throats. 
 
 " What 's your pleasure, gentlemen ? " 
 asked the president, pounding with his gavel. 
 
 " I move," said the courier member, "that 
 the contract be awarded to Mr. Daniel 
 McGaw as the lowest bidder, provided he 
 can sign the contract to-night with proper 
 bonds." 
 
 Four members seconded it. 
 
 " Is Mr. McGaw's bondsman present ? " 
 asked the president, rising. 
 
 Justice Rowan rose, and bowed with the 
 air of a foreign banker accepting a govern- 
 ment loan. 
 
 " I have that honor, Mr. Prisident. I am 
 willing to back Mr. McGaw to the extent of 
 me humble possissions, which are ample, I 
 trust, for the purposes of this contract " — 
 looking around with an air of entire confi- 
 dence. 
 
 x86 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 
 
 " Gentlemen, are you ready for the ques- 
 tion ? " asked the president. 
 
 At this instant there was a slight commo- 
 tion at the end of the hall. Half a dozen 
 men nearest the door left their seats and 
 crowded to the top of the staircase. Then 
 came a voice outside : " Fall back ; don't 
 block up the door ! Get back there ! " The 
 excitement was so great that the proceedings 
 of the board were stopped. 
 
 The throng parted. The men near the 
 table stood still. An ominous silence sud- 
 denly prevailed. Daniel McGaw twisted his 
 head, turned ghastly white, and would have 
 fallen from his chair but for Dempsey. 
 
 Advancing through the door with slow, 
 measured tread, her long cloak reaching to 
 her feet ; erect, calm, fearless ; her face like 
 chalk ; her lips compressed, stifling the agony 
 of every step ; her eyes deep sunken, black- 
 rimmed, burning like coals ; her brow bound 
 with a blood-stained handkerchief that barely 
 hid the bandages beneath, came Tom. 
 
 The deathly hush was unbroken. The men 
 fell back with white, scared faces to let her 
 pass. McGaw cowered in his chair. Demp- 
 sey' s eyes glistened, a half -sigh of relief 
 
 ,8 7 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 escaping him. Crimmins had not moved ; 
 the apparition stunned him. 
 
 On she came, her eyes fixed on the presi- 
 dent, till she reached the table. Then she 
 steadied herself for a moment, took a roll of 
 papers from her dress, and sank into a chair. 
 
 No one spoke. The crowd pressed closer. 
 Those outside the rail noiselessly mounted 
 the benches and chairs, craning their necks. 
 Every eye was fixed upon her. 
 
 Slowly and carefully she unrolled the con- 
 tract, spreading it out before her, picked up 
 a pen from the table, and without a word 
 wrote her name. Then she rose firmly, and 
 walked steadily to the door. 
 
 Just then a man entered within the rail 
 and took her seat. It was her bondsman, 
 Mr. Crane. 
 
 188 
 
XVI 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 TWO days after Tom had signed the high- 
 way contract, Babcock sat in his private 
 office in New York, opening his mail. In the 
 outside room were half a dozen employees 
 — engineers and others — awaiting their in- 
 structions. 
 
 The fine spring weather had come and 
 work had been started in every direction, in- 
 cluding the second section of the sea-wall at 
 the depot, where the divers were preparing 
 the bottom for the layers of concrete. Tom's 
 carts had hauled the stone. 
 
 Tucked into the pile of letters heaped 
 before him, Babcock's quick eye caught the 
 corner of a telegram. It read as follows : — 
 
 Mother hurt. Wants you immediately. Please 
 come. Jennie Grogan. 
 
 For an instant he sat motionless, gazing at 
 the yellow slip. Then he sprang to his feet. 
 189 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Thrusting his unopened correspondence into 
 his pocket, he gave a few hurried instructions 
 to his men and started for the ferry. Once 
 on the boat, he began pacing the deck. " Tom 
 hurt ! " he repeated to himself. " Tom hurt ? 
 How — when — what could have hurt her ? " 
 He had seen her at the sea-wall, only three 
 days before, rosy-cheeked, magnificent in 
 health and strength. What had happened ? 
 At the St. George landing he jumped into a 
 hack, hurrying the cabman. 
 
 Jennie was watching for him at the garden 
 gate. She said her mother was in the sit- 
 ting-room, and Gran'pop was with her. As 
 they walked up the path she recounted rap- 
 idly the events of the past two days. 
 
 Tom was on the lounge by the window, 
 under the flowering plants, when Babcock 
 entered. She was apparently asleep. Across 
 her forehead, covering the temples, two nar- 
 row bandages bound up her wound. At 
 Babcock' s step she opened her eyes, her 
 bruised, discolored face breaking into a smile. 
 Then, noting his evident anxiety, she threw 
 the shawl from her shoulders and sat up. 
 
 " No, don't look so. It 's nothin' ; I '11 be 
 all right in a day or two. I 've been hurted 
 190 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 before, but not so bad as this. I would n't 
 have troubled ye, but Mr. Crane has gone 
 West. It was kind and friendly o' ye to 
 come ; I knew ye would." 
 
 Babcock nodded to Pop, and sank into a 
 chair. The shock of her appearance had 
 completely unnerved him. 
 
 "Jennie has told me about it," he said in 
 a tender, sympathetic tone. " Who was mean 
 enough to serve you in this way, Tom ? " He 
 called her Tom now, as the others did. 
 
 "Well, I won't say now. It may have 
 been the horse, but I hardly think it, for I 
 saw a face. All I remember clear is a-layin' 
 me hand on the mare's back. When I come 
 to I was flat on the lounge. They had fixed 
 me up, and Dr. Mason had gone off. Only 
 the thick hood saved me. Carl and Cully 
 searched the place, but nothin' could be 
 found. Cully says he heard somebody a-run- 
 nin' on the other side of the fence, but ye 
 can't tell. Nobody keeps their heads in times 
 like that." 
 
 " Have you been in bed ever since ? " Bab- 
 cock asked. 
 
 " In bed ! God rest ye ! I was down to the 
 board meetin' two hours after, wid Mr. Crane, 
 191 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 and signed the contract. Jennie and all of 
 'em would n't have it, and cried and went on, 
 but I braved 'em all. I knew I had to go if 
 I died for it. Mr. Crane had his buggy, so I 
 did n't have to walk. The stairs was the 
 worst. Once inside, I was all right. I only 
 had to sign, an' come out again ; it did n't 
 take a minute. Mr. Crane stayed and fixed 
 the bonds wid the trustees, an' I come home 
 wid Carl and Jennie." Then, turning to her 
 father, she said, " Gran'pop, will ye and Jen- 
 nie go into the kitchen for a while ? I Ve 
 some private business wid Mr. Babcock." 
 
 When they were gone her whole manner 
 changed. She buried her face for a moment 
 in the pillow, covering her cheek with her 
 hands ; then, turning to Babcock, she said : — 
 " Now, me friend, will ye lock the door ? " 
 For some minutes she looked out of the 
 window, through the curtains and nastur- 
 tiums, then, in a low, broken voice, she said : 
 " I 'm in great trouble. Will ye help me ? " 
 " Help you, Tom ? You know I will, and 
 with anything I Ve got. What is it?" he 
 said, earnestly, regaining his chair and draw- 
 ing it closer. 
 
 " Has no one iver told ye about me Tom ? " 
 192 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 she asked, looking at him from under her 
 eyebrows. 
 
 " No ; except that he was hurt or — or — ■ 
 out of his mind, maybe, and you could n't 
 bring him home." 
 
 "An' ye have heared nothin' more ? " 
 
 "No," said Babcock, wondering at her 
 anxious manner. 
 
 " Ye know that since he went away I 've 
 done the work meself, standin' out as he 
 would have done in the cold an' wet an' 
 workin' for the children wid nobody to help 
 me but these two hands." 
 
 Babcock nodded. He knew how true it 
 was. 
 
 " Ye 've wondered many a time, maybe, 
 that I niver brought him home an' had him 
 round wid me other poor cripple, Patsy — 
 them two togither." Her voice fell almost to 
 a whisper. 
 
 " Or ye thought, maybe, it was mean and 
 cruel in me that I kep' him a burden on the 
 State, when I was able to care for him me- 
 self. Well, ye '11 think so no more." 
 
 Babcock began to see now why he had been 
 sent for. His heart went out to her all the 
 more. 
 
 J 93 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 "Tom, is your husband dead?" he asked, 
 with a quiver in his voice. 
 
 She never took her eyes from his face. 
 Few people were ever tender with her ; they 
 never seemed to think she needed it. She 
 read this man's sincerity and sympathy in his 
 eyes ; then she answered slowly : — 
 
 "He is, Mr. Babcock." 
 
 " When did he die ? Was it last night, 
 Tom?" 
 
 " Listen to me fust, an' then I '11 tell ye. 
 Ye must know that when me Tom was hurted, 
 seven years ago, we had a small place, an' 
 only three horses, and them war n't paid for ; 
 an' we had the haulin' at the brewery, an' that 
 was about all we did have. When Tom had 
 been sick a month — it was the time the 
 bucket fell an' broke his rib — the new con- 
 tract at the brewery was let for the year, an' 
 Schwartz give it to us, a-thinkin' that Tom 'd 
 be round ag'in, an' niver carin', so 's his work 
 was done, an' I doin' it, me bein' big an 
 strong, as I always was. Me Tom got worse 
 an' worse, an' I saw him a-failin', an' one day 
 Dr. Mason stopped an' said if I brought him 
 to Bellevue Hospital, where he had just been 
 appointed, he 'd fix up his rib so he could 
 194 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 breathe easier, and maybe he 'd get well. 
 Well, I hung on an' on, thinkin' he 'd get 
 better, — poor fellow, he did n't want to go, 
 — but one night, about dark, I took the Big 
 Gray an' put him to the cart, an' bedded it 
 down wid straw ; an' I wrapped me Tom up 
 in two blankits an' carried him downstairs 
 in me own arms, an' driv slow to the ferry." 
 
 She hesitated for a moment, leaned her 
 bruised head on her hand, and then went 
 on : — 
 
 "When I got to Bellevue, over by the 
 river, it was near ten o'clock at night. No- 
 body stopped me or iver looked into me 
 bundle of straw where me poor boy lay ; an' 
 I rung the bell, an' they came out, an' got 
 him up into the ward, an' laid him on the bed. 
 Dr. Mason was on night duty, an' come an' 
 looked at him, an' said I must come over the 
 next day ; an' I kissed me poor Tom an' left 
 him tucked in, promisin' to be back early in 
 the mornin'. I had got only as far as the 
 gate on the street whin one of the men came 
 a-runnin' after me. I thought he had fainted, 
 and ran back as fast as I could, but when I 
 got me arms under him again — he was dead." 
 
 " And all this seven years ago, Tom ? " 
 J 95 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 said Babcock in astonishment, sinking back 
 in his chair. 
 
 Tom bowed her head. The tears were 
 trickling through her fingers and falling on 
 the coarse shawl. 
 
 " Yis ; seven years ago this June." She 
 paused for a moment, as if the scene was 
 passing before her in every detail, and then 
 went on : " Whin I come home I niver said 
 a word to anybody but Jennie. I 've niver 
 told Pop yit. Nobody else would have cared ; 
 we was strangers here. The next mornin' I 
 took Jennie, — she was a child then, — an' 
 we wint over to the city, an' I got what 
 money I had, an' the doctors helped, an' we 
 buried him ; nobody but just us two, Jennie 
 an' me, walkin' behint the wagon, his poor 
 body in the box. Whin I come home I 
 wanted to die, but I said nothin'. I was 
 afraid Schwartz would take the work away if 
 he knew it was only a woman who was a-doin' 
 it wid no man round, an so I kep' on ; an' 
 whin the neighbors asked about him bein' in 
 a 'sylum an' out of his head, an' a cripple an' 
 all that, God forgive me, I was afraid to tell, 
 and I kept still and let it go at that ; an' 
 whin they asked me how he was I 'd say he 
 196 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 was better, or more comfortable, or easier ; 
 an' so he was, thank God ! bein' in heaven." 
 
 She roused herself wearily, and wiped her 
 eyes with the back of her hand. Babcock sat 
 motionless. 
 
 " Since that I 've kep' the promise to me 
 Tom that I made on me knees beside his bed 
 the night I lifted him in me arms to take him 
 downstairs — that I 'd keep his name clean, 
 and do by it as he would hev done himself, an' 
 bring up the children, an' hold the roof over 
 their heads. An' now they say I dar' n't be 
 called by Tom's name, nor sign it neither, an' 
 they 're a-goin' to take me contract away for 
 puttin' his name at the bottom of it, just as 
 I 've put it on ivery other bit o' paper I 've 
 touched ink to these seven years since he left 
 me." 
 
 " Why, Tom, this is nonsense. Who says 
 so ? " said Babcock earnestly, glad of any 
 change of feeling to break the current of her 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Dan McGaw an' Rowan says so," 
 
 " What 's McGaw got to do with it ? He 's 
 out of the fight." 
 
 " Oh, ye don't know some men, Mr. Bab- 
 cock. McGaw '11 never stop fightin' while I 
 197 
 
TOM GROG AN 
 
 live. Maybe I ought n't tell ye, — I 've niver 
 told anybody, — but whin my Tom lay sick 
 upstairs, McGaw come in one night, an' his 
 own wife half dead with a blow he had given 
 her, an' sat down in this very room, — it was 
 our kitchen then, — an' he says, ' If your man 
 don't git well, ye '11 be broke.' An' I says to 
 him, ' Dan McGaw, if I live twelve months, 
 Tom Grogan '11 be a richer man than he is 
 now.' I was a-sittin' right here when I said 
 it, wid a rag carpet on this floor, an' hardly 
 any furniture in the room. He said more 
 things, an' tried to make love to me, and I let 
 drive and threw him out of me kitchen. Then 
 all me trouble wid him began ; he 's done 
 everything to beat me since, and now maybe, 
 after all, he '11 down me. It all come up yis- 
 terday through McGaw meetin' Dr. Mason 
 an' askin' him about me Tom ; an' whin the 
 doctor told him Tom was dead seven years, 
 McGaw runs to Justice Rowan wid the story, 
 an' now they say I can't sign a dead man's 
 name. Judge Bowker has the papers, an' 
 it 's all to be settled to-morrow." 
 
 " But they can't take your contract away," 
 said Babcock indignantly, "no matter what 
 Rowan says." 
 
 198 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 " Oh, it 's not that — it 's not that. That 's 
 not what hurts me. I can git another con- 
 tract. That 's not what breaks me heart. 
 But if they take me Tom's name from me, 
 an' say I can't be Tom Grogan any more ; its 
 like robbin' me of my life. When I work on 
 the docks I alius brace myself an' say ' I 'm 
 doing just what Tom did many a day for me.' 
 When I sign his name to me checks an' 
 papers, — the name I 've loved an' that I 've 
 worked for, the name I 've kep' clean for him 
 ■ — me Tom that loved me, an' never lied or 
 was mean — me Tom that I promised, an' 
 — an' " — 
 
 All the woman in her overcame her now. 
 Sinking to her knees, she threw her arms 
 and head on the lounge, and burst into tears. 
 
 Babcock rested his head on his hand, and 
 looked on in silence. Here was something, 
 it seemed to him, too sacred for him to touch 
 even with his sympathy. 
 
 "Tom," he said, when she grew more 
 quiet, his whole heart going out to her, " what 
 do you want me to do ? " 
 
 " I don't know that ye can do anything," 
 she said in a quivering voice, lifting her head, 
 her eyes still wet. " Perhaps nobody can. 
 199 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 But I thought maybe ye 'd go wid me to 
 Judge Bowker in the mornin\ Rowan an' all 
 of 'em '11 be there, an' I 'm no match for 
 these lawyers. Perhaps ye 'd speak to the 
 judge for me." 
 
 Babcock held out his hand. 
 
 " I knew ye would, an' I thank ye," she 
 said, drying her eyes. " Now unlock the 
 door, an' let 'em in. They worry so. Gran'- 
 pop has n't slep' a night since I was hurted, 
 an' Jennie goes round cryin' all the time, 
 sayin' they '11 be a-killin' me next." 
 
 Then, rising to her feet, she called out in a 
 cheery voice, as Babcock opened the door, 
 " Come in, Jennie ; come in Gran'pop. It 's 
 all over, child. Mr. Babcock 's a-going wid 
 me in the mornin'. Niver fear ; we '11 down 
 'em all yit." 
 
XVII 
 
 A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT 
 
 WHEN Judge Bowker entered his office 
 adjoining the village bank, Justice 
 Rowan had already arrived. So had McGaw, 
 Dempsey, Crimmins, Quigg, the president of 
 the board, and one or two of the trustees. 
 The judge had sent for McGaw and the pres- 
 ident, and they had notified the others. 
 
 McGaw sat next to Dempsey. His extreme 
 nervousness of a few days ago — starting 
 almost at the sound of his own footstep — 
 had given place to a certain air of bravado, 
 now that everybody in the village believed 
 the horse had kicked Tom. 
 
 Babcock and Tom were by the window, she 
 listless and weary, he alert and watchful for 
 the slightest point in her favor. She had on 
 her brown dress, washed clean of the blood- 
 stains, and the silk hood, which better con- 
 cealed the bruises. All her old fire and 
 energy were gone. It was not from the 
 201 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 shock of her wound, — her splendid constitu- 
 tion was fast healing that, — but from this 
 deeper hurt, this last thrust of McGaw's 
 which seemed to have broken her indomitable 
 spirit. 
 
 Babcock, although he did not betray his 
 misgivings, was greatly worried over the out- 
 come of McGaw's latest scheme. He wished 
 in his secret heart that Tom had signed her 
 own name to the contract. He was afraid 
 so punctilious a man as the judge might de- 
 cide against her. He had never seen him ; 
 he only knew that no other judge in his dis- 
 trict had so great a reputation for technical 
 rulings. 
 
 When the judge entered — a small, gray- 
 haired, keen-eyed man in a black suit, with 
 gold spectacles, spotless linen, and clean- 
 shaven face — Babcock's fears were con- 
 firmed. This man, he felt, would be legally 
 exact, no matter who suffered by his decision. 
 
 Rowan opened the case, the judge listen- 
 ing attentively, looking over his glasses. 
 Rowan recounted the details of the advertise- 
 ment, the opening of the bids, the award of 
 the contract, the signing of "Thomas Gro- 
 gan " in the presence of the full board, and 
 
A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT 
 
 the discovery by his " honored client that no 
 such man existed, had not existed for years, 
 and did not now exist." 
 
 "Dead, your Honor" — throwing out his 
 chest impressively, his voice swelling — " dead 
 in his grave these siven years, this Mr. Thomas 
 Grogan ; and yet this woman has the bald and 
 impudent effrontery to " — 
 
 "That will do, Mr. Rowan." 
 
 Police justices — justices like Rowan — did 
 not count much with Judge Bowker, and then 
 he never permitted any one to abuse a woman 
 in his presence. 
 
 " The point you make is that Mrs. Grogan 
 had no right to sign her name to a contract 
 made out in the name of her dead husband." 
 
 "I do, your Honor," said Rowan, resum- 
 ing his seat. 
 
 " Why did you sign it ? " asked Judge 
 Bowker, turning to Tom. 
 
 She looked at Babcock. He nodded as- 
 sent, and then she answered : — 
 
 " I alius signed it so since he left me." 
 
 There was a pleading, tender pathos in her 
 words that startled Babcock. He could hardly 
 believe the voice to be Tom's. 
 
 The judge looked at her with a quick, pene- 
 203 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 trating glance, which broadened into an ex- 
 pression of kindly interest when he read her 
 entire honesty in her face. Then he turned 
 to the president of the board. 
 
 " When you awarded this contract, whom 
 did you expect to do the work, Mrs. Grogan 
 or her husband?" 
 
 "Mrs. Grogan, of course. She has done 
 her own work for years," answered the presi- 
 dent. 
 
 The judge tapped the arm of his chair with 
 his pencil. The taps could be heard all over 
 the room. Most men kept quiet in Bowker's 
 presence, even men like Rowan. For some 
 moments his Honor bent over the desk and 
 carefully examined the signed contract spread 
 out before him ; then he pushed it back, and 
 glanced about the room. 
 
 "Is Mr. Crane, the bondsman, present ?" 
 
 "Mr. Crane has gone West, sir," said Bab- 
 cock, rising. " I represent Mrs. Grogan in 
 this matter." 
 
 "Did Mr. Crane sign this bond knowing 
 that Mrs. Grogan would haul the stone ? " 
 
 " He did ; and I can add that all her checks, 
 receipts, and correspondence are signed in 
 the same way, and have been for years. She 
 204 
 
A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT 
 
 is known everywhere as Tom Grogan. She 
 has never had any other name — in her busi- 
 ness." 
 
 "Who else objects to this award?" said 
 the judge calmly. 
 
 Rowan sprang to his feet. The judge 
 looked at him. 
 
 " Please sit down, Justice Rowan. I said 
 'who else' I have heard you." He knew 
 Rowan. 
 
 Dempsey jumped from his chair. 
 
 " I 'm opposed to it, yer Honor, an* so is 
 all me fri'nds here. This woman has been 
 invited into the Union, and treats us as if we 
 was dogs. She " — 
 
 "Are you a bidder for this work?" asked 
 the judge. 
 
 " No, sir ; but the Union has rights, and " — ■ 
 
 " Please take your seat ; only bidders can 
 be heard now." 
 
 " But who 's to stand up for the rights of 
 the laborin' man if " — 
 
 " You can, if you choose ; but not here. 
 This is a question of evidence." 
 
 " Who 's Bowker anyhow ? " said Dempsey 
 behind his hand to Quigg. " Ridin' 'round 
 in his carriage and chokin' off free speech ? " 
 205 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 After some moments of thought the judge 
 turned to the president of the board, and said 
 in a measured, deliberate voice : — 
 
 " This signature, in my opinion, is a proper 
 one. No fraud is charged, and under the 
 testimony none was intended. The law gives 
 Mrs. Grogan the right to use any title she 
 chooses in conducting her business — her 
 husband's name, or any other. The contract 
 must stand as it is." 
 
 Here the judge arose and entered his pri- 
 vate office, shutting the door behind him. 
 
 Tom had listened with eyes dilating, every 
 nerve in her body at highest tension. Her 
 contempt for Rowan in his abuse of her ; 
 her anger against Dempsey at his insults ; 
 her gratitude to Babcock as he stood up to 
 defend her ; her fears for the outcome, as 
 she listened to the calm, judicial voice of the 
 judge, — each producing a different sensa- 
 tion of heat and cold, — were all forgotten 
 in the wild rush of joy that surged through 
 her as the judge's words fell upon her ear. 
 She shed no tears, as other women might 
 have done. Every fibre of her being seemed 
 to be turned to steel. She was herself again 
 — she, Tom Grogan ! — firm on her own feet, 
 206 
 
A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT 
 
 with her big arms ready to obey her, and her 
 head as clear as a bell, master of herself, 
 master of her rights, master of everything 
 about her. And, above all, master of the 
 dear name of her Tom that nothing could 
 take from her now — not even the law ! 
 
 With this tightening of her will power 
 there quivered through her a sense of her 
 own wrongs — the wrongs she had endured 
 for years, the wrongs that had so nearly 
 wrecked her life. 
 
 Then, forgetting the office, the still solem- 
 nity of the place — even Babcock — she 
 walked straight up to McGaw, blocking his 
 ex ; t to the street door. 
 
 " Dan McGaw, there 's a word I 've got for 
 ye before ye l'ave this place, an' I 'm a-going 
 to say it to ye now before ivery man in this 
 room." 
 
 McGaw shrank back in alarm. 
 
 " You an' I have known each other since 
 the time I nursed yer wife when yer boy Jack 
 was born, an' helped her through when she 
 was near dyin' from a kick ye give her. Ye 
 began yer dirty work on me one night when 
 me Tom lay sick, an' I threw ye out o' me 
 kitchen ; an' since that time ye 've " — 
 207 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 " Here ! I ain't a-goin' ter stand here an* 
 listen ter yer. Git out o' me way, or I '11 " — ■ 
 
 Tom stepped closer, her eyes flashing, 
 every word ringing clear. 
 
 " Stand still, an' hear what I 've got to say 
 to ye, or I '11 go into that room and make a 
 statement to the judge that '11 put ye where 
 ye won't move for years. There was enough 
 light for me to see. Look at this " — drawing 
 back her hood, and showing the bandaged scar. 
 
 McGaw seemed to shrivel up ; the crowd 
 stood still in amazement. 
 
 " I thought ye would. Now, I '11 go on. 
 Since that night in me kitchen ye 've tried to 
 ruin me in ivery other way ye could. Ye 've 
 set these dead beats Crimmins and Quigg on 
 to me to coax away me men ; ye 've stirred 
 up the Union ; ye burned me stable " — 
 
 " Ye lie ! It 's a tramp did it," snarled 
 McGaw. 
 
 " Ye better keep still till I get through, 
 Dan McGaw. I 've got the can that helt the 
 ker'sene, an' I know where yer boy Billy 
 bought it, an' who set him up to it," she 
 added, looking straight at Crimmins. " He 
 might 'a' been a dacent boy but for him." 
 Crimmins turned pale and bit his lip. 
 208 
 
A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT 
 
 The situation became intense. Even the 
 judge, who had come out of his private room 
 at the attack, listened eagerly. 
 
 " Ye 've been a sneak an' a coward to serve 
 a woman so who never harmed ye. Now I 
 give ye fair warnin', an' I want two or three 
 other men in this room to listen ; if this 
 don't stop, ye '11 all be behint bars where 
 ye belong. — I mean you, too, Mr. Dempsey. 
 As for you, Dan McGaw, if it war n't for yer 
 wife Kate, who 's a dacent woman, ye 'd go 
 to-day. Now, one thing more, an' I '11 let ye 
 go. I 've bought yer chattel mortgage of 
 Mr. Crane that 's past due, an' I can do wid 
 it as I pl'ase. You '11 send to me in the 
 mornin' two of yer horses to take the places 
 of those ye burned up, an' if they 're not in 
 my stable by siven o'clock I '11 be round yer 
 way 'bout nine with the sheriff." 
 
 Once outside in the sunlight, she became 
 herself again. The outburst had cleared her 
 soul like a thunder-clap. She felt as free as 
 air. The secret that had weighed her down 
 for years was off her mind. What she had 
 whispered to her own heart she could now 
 proclaim from the housetops. Even the law 
 protected her. 
 
 209 
 
TOM GROGAN 
 
 Babcock walked beside her, silent and 
 grave. She seemed to him like some Joan 
 with flaming sword. 
 
 When they reached the road that led to 
 her own house, her eyes fell upon Jennie and 
 Carl. They had walked down behind them, 
 and were waiting under the trees. 
 
 " There 's one thing more ye can do for 
 me, my friend," she said, turning to Babcock. 
 " All the old things Tom an' I did togither I 
 can do by meself ; but it 's new things like 
 Carl an' Jennie that trouble me — the new 
 things I can't ask him about. Do ye see 
 them two yonder ? Am I free to do for 'em 
 as I would ? No ; ye need n't answer. I see 
 it in yer face. Come here, child ; I want ye. 
 Give me yer hand." 
 
 For an instant she stood looking into their 
 faces, her eyes brimming. Then she took Jen- 
 nie's hand, slipped it into Carl's, and laying 
 her big, strong palm over the two, said slowly : 
 
 " Now go home, both o' ye, to the house 
 that '11 shelter ye, pl'ase God, as long as ye 
 live." 
 
 2IO 
 
Before the highway-work was finished, 
 McGaw was dead and Billy and Crimmins 
 in Sing Sing. The label on the empty can, 
 Quigg's volunteered testimony, and Judge 
 Bowker's charge, convinced the jury. Quigg 
 had quarreled with Crimmins and the com- 
 mittee, and took that way of getting even. 
 
 When Tom heard the news, she left her 
 teams standing in the road and went straight 
 to McGaw's house. His widow sat on a 
 broken chair in an almost empty room. 
 
 " Don't cry, Katy," said Tom, bending 
 over her. " I 'm sorry for Billy. Seems to 
 me, ye 've had a lot o' trouble since Dan was 
 drowned. It was not all Billy's fault. It was 
 Crimmins that put him up to it. But ye 've 
 one thing left, and that 's yer boy Jack. Let 
 me take him — I '11 make a man of him." 
 
 Jack is still with her. Tom says he is the 
 best man in her gang. 
 
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