Katie was hungry, and hunger finds it hard to think of justice. She had borne all that she could bear. The waiting, the walking, the hope and the hopelessness had gnawed the string of her courage. Something snapped inside of her, and she began to sob with Irish unrestraint. Mr. Porter was embarrassed. He frequently had to deal harshly with other employés of his philanthropic employer--it was, in fact, upon the performance of such duties that his living almost depended--but he did not like to have tears shed in his office: it did not look well for the reputation of the establishment. "My dear Miss--Miss Flanagan," said he, first consulting the application-blank for the forgotten name, and putting one of his white hands toward the face now hidden in a crumpled handkerchief. "You mustn't--really, you must not!" "But everything depends on me gettin' this job!" sobbed Katie in an Irish wail. "The rent's due; me family's all sick; the milkman won't leave no more milk, an' I've eaten nothin' for Heaven knows how long!" In a rush of words her story, including that of her resurrected father, leaped from her. What effect it would have had upon Mr. Porter had it been calmly told is beyond guessing; but it was told by no means calmly, and Katie's voice rose to a pitch that forced him to surrender out of mere fear of a prolonged scene. Grudgingly, but unconditionally, he laid down his arms. He took the telephone and called again Miss Isaacs, the buyer of the women's hosiery department, which Miss Costigan was to leave on the following day, told as much of Katie's story as he thought necessary, and obtained consent to a trial of the girl. He informed Katie that she might take, on the next morning, the place to be vacated by Miss Costigan, but he took care to impress upon her mind the fact that he was doing her an exceptional favor, which she was not to mention to her friends, who might try to profit by her unusual experience. Katie was on the point of calling all the saints to bless him when she bethought her of a practical inquiry theretofore, in her eagerness to secure any sort of work, neglected. "An' what's the pay?" she inquired. "You will receive," replied Mr. Porter in the tones in which his employer announced the gift of a small fortune to a large college, "four dollars and fifty cents a week." Katie forgot the saints. "Four--" she began. "But, Mr. Porter," she concluded, "will you be tellin' me how I'm to be livin' on all that?" Mr. Porter's calm eyes came again into significant play. "You have said in your application, you may recall," he dryly remarked, as he reached for that document, "you have said that you lived with your father." For a moment her glance probed his. "But for all that," she said, "I have to support meself entirely."