He paused a second, glancing around, when he saw the name on the opposite door. A flash passed over his face. "Ugh!" he muttered. "'Member now--been to this place before! Glad she ain't sending a letter to _that_ man." He stepped inside the open door before him, crossed the room and laid the note near a man who was bending over some papers on a desk. The man reached a groping hand, tore open the envelope, taking therefrom a card on which was pencilled: "Could this by any chance be your Little Brother?" He turned hastily, glancing at Mickey, then in a continuous movement arose with outstretched hand. "Why Little Brother," he cried, "I'm so glad to see you!" Mickey's smile slowly vanished as he whipped his hands behind him, stepping back. "Nothin' doing, Boss," he said. "You're off your trolley. I've no brother. My mother had only me." "Don't you remember me, Mickey?" inquired Douglas Bruce. "Sure!" said Mickey. "You made Jimmy pay up!" "Has he bothered you again?" asked the lawyer. "Nope!" answered Mickey. "Sit down, Mickey, I want to talk with you." "I'm much obliged for helping me out," said Mickey, "but I guess you got other business, and I know I have." "What is your business?" was the next question. "Selling papers. What's yours?" was the answer. "Trying to be a corporation lawyer," explained Douglas. "I've been here only two years, and it is slow getting a start. I often have more time to spare than I wish I had, while I'm lonesome no end." "Is your mother dead?" asked Mickey solicitously. "Yes," answered Douglas. "So's mine!" he commented. "You _do_ get lonesome! Course she was a good one?" "The very finest, Mickey," said Douglas. "And yours?" "Same here, Mister," said Mickey with conviction. "Well since we are both motherless and lonesome, suppose we be brothers!" suggested Douglas. "Aw-w-w!" Mickey shook his head. "No?" questioned Douglas. "What's the use?" cried Mickey. "You could help me with my work and share my play, while possibly I could be of benefit to you." "I just wondered if you wasn't getting to that," commented Mickey. "Getting to what?" inquired Douglas. "Going to do me good!" explained Mickey. "The swell stiffs are always going to do us fellows good. Mostly they do! They do us good and brown! They pick us up a while and make lap dogs of us, then when we've lost our appetites for our jobs and got to having a hankerin' for the fetch and carry business away they go and forget us, so we're a lot worse off than we were before. Some of the fellows come out of it knowing more ways to be mean than they ever learned on the street," explained Mickey. "If it's that Big Brother bee you got in your bonnet, pull its stinger and let it die an unnatural death! Nope! None! Good-bye!" "Mickey, wait!" cried Douglas. "Me business calls, an' I must go--'way to my ranch in Idaho!" gaily sang Mickey. "I'd like to shake you!" said Douglas Bruce. "Well, go on," said Mickey. "I'm here and you're big enough."