"I do know it, but you can give me a letter over there. Just say: 'Please give Patsy Daly transportation, Chicago to Council Bluffs and return;' that'll do the business. You might add a paragraph about me being an old and trusted employee and--" "A bold and mistrusted striker, Patsy, would be nearer the card." "Now don't bring up unpleasant recollections," said Patsy with a frown that didn't make him look as cross as some men look when they laugh: "It will be a neat way of showing that the Q is big enough to be good to her old employees, even if her stock is a little down. What do you say--do I get the pass--does mother see her railroad boy to-night?" The door that was marked "Private" opened slowly and the general manager came in. The chief clerk shuffled the letters while Patsy made a desperate effort to look serious and respectful. "What brings you here, Patsy?" asked the head of the road, for he was by no means displeased at seeing one of the old employees in the office who was not a member of a grievance committee. "I want to get a pass, if you please sir, to run down to the Bluffs and see the folks." "Patsy wants a request for a pass over the North Western," said the clerk, taking courage now that the subject was opened. "Ah! is that all? now suppose I ask you to take a passenger train out to-night, will you do it?" asked the general manager, turning to Patsy. "What's the matter with the regular conductor?" "Joined the strikers," was the reply. "But the papers say the strike is over." "It is! but a lot of you fellows don't seem to know it." "I'm glad of it, and now I must hurry back, so as to be ready to take my run out. Do I get the pass?" "And you expect, when the strike is off, to go back to your old place?" "Sure," said Patsy, "I don't intend to quit you as long as you have a brake for me to turn." "There's a lot of brakes that nobody is turning right now; come, you young rascal, will you go to work?" "Now," said the young rascal, "you know what it says at the bottom of the time-card: 'In case of doubt take the safe side.' I'm waiting to see which side is safe." With that the manager went back to his desk and closed the door behind him, and the secretary went on with his work. Patsy stood and looked out at the window for a while, and then said half to himself, but so the clerk could hear him: "Poor little mother, how she will miss me to-night." The secretary said nothing, but leaving his desk entered the office of his chief, and when they had talked over the business of the hour and read the story prepared by the passenger department for the press that day, he asked what should be done for Patsy. "Oh! give him the letter, I suppose, but he's the only employee on the road I would do so much for." "And he's the only one with nerve enough to ask it," said the secretary.