guiding him to a chair and helping him get his pipe alight.

"How's everything? Little Mike must be growing into a big boy
these days. Let's see. It's three years since I've seen him."

A momentary flicker lit the gloomy eyes of the Irishman. "He's a
great boy, Mike is. He often speaks of you, Mr. Farnum.

"Glad to know it. And Mrs. Burke?"

"Fine."

"That leaves only Patrick Burke. I suppose he hasn't fallen off
the water wagon yet."

The occupation of Burke had been a threadbare joke between them in
the old days. He drove a street sprinkler for the city.

"That's what he has. McGuire threw the hooks into me this mor-
rning. I've drove me last day."

"What's the matter?"

"I'm too damned honest. . . . or too big a coward. Take your
choice."

"All right. I've taken it," smiled the reporter.

Pat brought his big fist down on the table so forcefully that the
books shook. "I'll not go to the penitentiary for an-ny man. . . .