"Felix O'Day."

"Then you're Irish?"

"I am afraid I am--at least, my ancestors were."

"Afraid! Ye ought to be glad. I'm Irish, and so is my John here, and Bobby, and Father Cruse, and Tom McGinniss, the policeman, and the captain up at the station-house--we're all Irish, except Otto, who is as Dutch as sauerkraut! But where was I? Oh, yes! Now, John, dear, this gentleman is on his uppers, he says, and wants to hire our room and eat what we can give him."

The expressman, who stood six feet in his stockings, looked first at his wife, then at Kling, and then at the applicant, and broke out into a loud guffaw. "It's a joke, Kitty. Don't let 'em fool ye. Go on, Otto; try it somewhere else! It's my busy day. Here, Mike!"

"You drop Mike and listen, John! It's no joke--not for Mr. O'Day. You take him up-stairs and show him what we got, and down into the kitchen and the sitting-room and out into the yard. Come, now; hurry! Go 'long with him, Mr. O'Day, and come back to me when ye are through and tell me what you think of it all. And, John, take Toodles with you and lock him up. First thing I know I'll be tramplin' on him. Get out, you varmint!"

John grabbed the wad of matted hair midway between his floppy tail and perpetually moist nose, controlled his own features into a semblance of seriousness, and turned to O'Day. "This way, sir--I thought it was one of Otto's jokes. The room is only about as big as half a box car, but it's got runnin' water in the hall, and Kitty keeps it mighty clean. As to the grub, it ain't what you are accustomed to, maybe, but it's what we have ourselves, and neither of us is starvin', as ye can see," and he thumped his chest. "No, not the big door, sir; the little one. And there's a key, too, for ye, when ye're out late--and ye will be out late, or I miss my guess," and out rolled another laugh.

Kitty looked after the two until they disappeared through the smaller door, then turned and faced Kling. "I know just what's happened, Otto--a baby a month old could see it all. That man is up against it for the first time. He'd rather die than beg, and he'll keep on sellin' his traps until there's nothin' left but the clothes he stands in. He may be a duke, for all ye know, or maybe only a plain Irish gentleman come to grief. Them bottles ye showed me last night had arms engraved on 'em, and his initials. I noticed partic'lar, for I've seen them things before. My father, when he was young, was second groom for a lord and used to tell me about the silver in the house and the arms on the sides of the carriages. What he's left home for the dear G.o.d only knows; but it will come out, and when it does it won't be what anybody thinks. And he's got a fine way wid him, and a clear look out of his eye, and I'll bet ye he's tellin' the truth and all of it. Here they come now, and I'm glad they've got rid of that rag baby of Bobby's." She turned to her husband. "And, John, dear, don't forget that sewing-machine--oh, yes, I see, you've got it in the wagon--go on wid ye, then!--Well, Mr. O'Day, how is it? Purty small and cramped, ain't it? And there's a chair missin' that I took downstairs, which I'll put back. And there's a cotton cover belongs to the table. Won't suit, will it?" and a shade of disappointment crossed her face.

"The room will answer very well, Mrs. Cleary. I can see the work of your deft hands in every corner. I have been living in one much larger, but this is more like a home. And do I get my breakfast and dinner and the room for the pound--I mean for the five dollars?"

"You do, and welcome, and somethin' in the middle of the day if ye happen to be around and hungry."

"And can I move in to-day?"

"Ye can."

"Then I will go down and pay what I owe and see about getting my boxes.

And now, here is your money," and he held out two five-dollar bills.

Kitty stretched her two hands far behind her back, her brown holland over-ap.r.o.n curving inward with the movement. "I won't touch it; ye can have the room and ye can keep your money. When I want it I'll ask fer it. Now tell me where I can get your trunks. Mike will go fer 'em and bring 'em back."

A new, strange look shone out from the keen, searching eyes of O'Day.

His interest in the woman had deepened. "And you have no misgivings and are sure you will get your rent?"

"Just as sure as I am that me name is Kitty Cleary, and that is not altogether because you're an Irishman but because ye are a gentleman."

This time O'Day made her a little bow, the lines of his face softening, his eyes sparkling with sudden humor at her speech. He stepped forward, called to the man who was still handling the luggage, and, in the tone of one ordering his groom, said: "Here, Mike!--Did you say his name was Mike?--Go, if you please, to this address, just below Union Square-I will write it on a card--any time to-day after six o'clock. I will meet you there and show you the trunks--there are two of them." Then he turned to Otto, still standing by, a silent and absorbed spectator.

"I have also to thank you, Mr. Kling. It was very kind of you, and I am sure I shall be very happy here. After I am settled I shall come over and see whether I can be of some service to you in going through your stock. There may be some other things that are valuable which you have mislaid. And then, again, I should like to see something more of your little daughter--she is very lovable, and so is her dog."

"Vell, vy don't you come now? Masie don't go to school to-day, and I keep her in de shop. I been tinkin' since you and Kitty been talkin'--Kitty don't make no mistakes: vot Kitty says goes. Look here, Kitty, vun minute--come close vunce--I vant to speak to you."

O'Day, who had been about to give a reason why he could not "come now,"

and who had halted in his reply in order to hunt his pockets for a card on which to write his address, hearing Kling's last words, withdrew to the office in search of both paper and pencil.

"Now, see here, Kitty! Dot mans is a vunderful man--de most VUNDERFUL man I have seen since I been in 445. You know dem cups and saucers vat I bought off dot olt vomans who came up from Baltimore? Do you know dot two of 'em is vorth more as ten dollars? He find dot out joost as soon as he pick 'em up, and he find out about my chairs, and vich vas fakes and vich vas goot. Vot you tink of my givin' him a job takin' my old cups and my soup tureens and stuff and go sell 'em someveres? I don't got n.o.body since dot tam fool of a Svede go avay. Vat you tink?"

"He can have my room--that's what I think! You heard what I said to him!

That's all the answer you'll get out of me, Otto Kling."

"An' you don't tink dot he'd git avay vid de stuff und ve haf to hunt up or down Second Avenue in the p.a.w.n-shops to git 'em back?"

"No, I don't!"

"Den, by golly, I take him on, und I gif him every veek vat he pay you in board."

Kitty broke into one of her derisive laughs. "YOU WILL! Ain't that good of ye? Ye'll give him enough to starve on, that's what it is. Ye ought to be ashamed of yourself, Otto Kling!"

"Vell, but I don't know vat he is vurth yet."

"Well, then, tell him so, but don't cheat him out of everything but his bare board; and that's what ye'd be doin'. Ye know he's p.a.w.nin'

his stuff; ye know ye got five times the worth of your money in the dressing-case he give up to ye! See here, Otto! Before ye offer him that five dollars a week ye better get on the other side of big John there, where ye'll be safe, and holler it at him over them trunks, or ye'll find yourself flat on your back."

"All right, Kitty, all right! Don't git oxcited. I didn't mean nudding.

I do just vat you say. I gif him more. Oh! Here you are! Mr. O'Day, vud you let me speak to you vun minute? Suppose dot I ask you to come into my shop as a clerk, like, and pay you vat I can--of course, you are new und it vill take some time, but I can pay sometings--vud you come?"

O'Day gave an involuntary start and from under his heavy brows there shot a keen, questioning glance. "What would you want me to do?" he asked evenly.

"Vell--vait on de customers, and look over de stock, and buy tings ven dey come in."

"You certainly cannot be serious, Mr. Kling. You know nothing about me.

I am an entire stranger and must continue to be. With the exception of my landlady, who, if she knows my name, forgets it every time she comes up for her rent, there is not a human being in New York to whom I could apply for a reference. Are you accustomed to pick up strangers out of the street and take them into your shops--and your homes?" he added, smiling at Kitty, who had been following the conversation closely.

"But you is a different kind of a mans."

No answer came. The man was lost in thought.

"Ye'd better think it over, sir," said Kitty, laying a strong, persuasive hand on his wrist. "It's near by, and ye can have your meals early or late as ye plaze, and the work ain't hard. My Mike does the liftin' and two big fat Dutchies helps."

"But I know nothing about the business, Mrs. Cleary--nothing about any business, for that matter. I should only be a disappointment to Mr.

Kling. I would rather keep his friendship and look elsewhere."

Kitty relaxed her hold of his wrist. "Then ye have been lookin' for work?" she asked. The inquiry sprang hot from her heart.

"I have not, so far, but I shall have to very soon."

She threw back her head and faced the two men. "Ye'll look no further, Mr. O'Day. You go over to Otto's and go to work; and it will be to-night after you gets your things stowed away. And ye'll pay him ten dollars a week, Otto, for the first month, and more the second if he earns it, which he will. Now are ye all satisfied, or shall I say it over?"

"One moment, please, Mrs. Cleary. If I may interrupt," he laughed, his reserve broken through at last by the friendly interest shown by the strangers about him, "and what will be the hours of my service?" Then, turning to Otto: "Perhaps you, Mr. Kling, can best tell me."

"Vot you mean?"

"How early must I come in the morning, and until how late must I stay at night?"

The dealer hesitated, then answered slowly, "In de morning at eight o'clock, and"--but, seeing a cloud cross O'Day's face, added: "Or maybe haf past eight vill do."

"And at night?"

"Vell--you can't tell. Sometimes it is more late as udder times--about nine o'clock ven I have packing to do."

O'Day shook his head.