Since his wife had developed into a huge, female divinity, at whose
shrine it seemed probable that he would eventually become a human
sacrifice, and whose wrath, in the meantime, it was his daily task to
appease, Pat had gradually formed the habit of making a sort of
companion of himself. In accordance with his custom, therefore, he
stopped under the high window from whence gleamed the light, for the
sake of a little personal counsel.

"Now, Pat," he muttered, "if yees had gone home at nine o'clock, yees
wudn't be afeared to go home now; and if yees go home now widout a
dollar more or less, the ould 'ooman will make yer wish yees had set on
the curbstone the rest o' the night. They sez some men has no bowels o'
marcies; and after what I've seen the night, and afore the night, too, I
kin belave that Boss Arnot's in'ards were cast at the same foundry where
he gets his mash-shines. He told me that I must spake nary a word about
what I've seen and heard, and if I should thry to turn an honest penny
by givin' a knowin' wink or two where they wud pay for the same, that
'ud be the ind of Pat M'Cabe at the big office. And yet they sez that
them as buys news is loike them that takes stolen goods--moighty willin'
to kape dark about where they got it, so that they kin get more next
time. That's the iditor of the 'Currier' in yon high room, and p'raps
he'll pay me as much for a wink and a hint the night as I'll get for me
day's work termorrow. Bust me if I don't thry him, if he'll fust promise
me to say it any one axes him that he niver saw Pat M'Cabe in his
loife," and the suddenly improvised reporter climbed the long stairways
to where the night editor sat at his desk.

Pat gave a hearty rap for manners, but as the night was waning he walked
in without waiting for an answer, and addressed the startled newspaper
man with a business-like directness, which might often be advantageously