She climbed the steep steps and tried the door, which yielded grudgingly to her pressure. It was only when she put her shoulder to it and pushed with all her strength that she made an opening wide enough to squeeze through. There on the floor, lying just as he had fallen, was the old gate-tender, his unseeing eyes staring up into the semi-darkness. Nance looked at him in terror, then at the signal board and the levers that controlled the gates. A terrible trembling seized her, and she covered her eyes with her hands. "God tell me quick, what must I do?" she demanded, and the next instant, as if in answer to her prayer, she heard herself gasp, "Dan!" as she fumbled wildly for the telephone. CHAPTER XXI DAN The shrill whistle that at noon had obtruded its discord into Nance Molloy's thoughts had a very different effect on Dan Lewis, washing his hands under the hydrant in the factory yard. _He_ had not forgotten that it was Saturday. Neither had Growler, who stood watching him with an oblique look in his old eye that said as plain as words that he knew what momentous business was brewing at five o'clock. It was not only Saturday for Dan, but the most important Saturday that ever figured on the calendar. In his heroic efforts to conform to Mrs. Purdy's standard of perfection he had studied the advice to young men in the "Sunday Echo." There he learned that no gentleman would think of mentioning love to a young lady until he was in a position to marry her. To-day's pay envelope would hold the exact amount to bring his bank account up to the three imposing figures that he had decided on as the minimum sum to be put away. As he was drying his hands on his handkerchief and whistling softly under his breath, he was summoned to the office. For the past year he had been a self-constituted buffer between Mr. Clarke and the men in the furnace-room, and he wondered anxiously what new complication had arisen. "He's got an awful grouch on," warned the stenographer as Dan passed through the outer office. Mr. Clarke was sitting at his desk, tapping his foot impatiently. "Well, Lewis," he said, "you've taken your time! Sit down. I want to talk to you." Dan dropped into the chair opposite and waited. "Is it true that you have been doing most of the new foreman's work for the past month?" "Well, I've helped him some. You see, being here so long, I know the ropes a bit better than he does." "That's not the point. I ought to have known sooner that he could not handle the job. I fired him this morning, and we've got to make some temporary arrangement until a new man is installed." Dan's face grew grave. "We can manage everything but the finishing room. Some of the girls have been threatening to quit." "What's the grievance now?" "Same thing--ventilation. Two more girls fainted there this morning. The air is something terrible." "What do they think I am running?" demanded Mr. Clarke, angrily, "a health resort?"