McCarthy had recovered his good humor. He threw a joke at the negro
polishing the brass, and paused genially to exchange a word with the
elevator starter.

"Worked until about three o'clock," the latter answered a question. "Got
it fixed all right. No, they didn't say what was the matter. Something to
do with the wires, I suppose."

"Most like," agreed McCarthy.

At this moment an elevator dropped from above and came to rest, like a
swift bird alighting. The doors parted to let out a young man wearing the
cap of the United Wireless.

"Good morning, Mr. McCarthy," this young man remarked in passing. "Aren't
going into the sign-painting business, are you?" He laughed.

"What ye givin' us, Mike?" demanded McCarthy.

The young man wheeled to include the elevator starter in the joke.

"Air was full of dope most of last night from some merry little jester
working a toy, home-made. He just kept repeating the same thing--something
about 'McCarthy, at six o'clock you shall have a sign given unto you. It
works,' over and over all night. Some new advertising dodge, I reckon.
Didn't know but you were the McCarthy and were getting a present from some
admiring constituent."

He threw back his head and laughed, but McCarthy's ready anger rose.