“Arrah, go long wid ye! There’s a dale av money in the milk business, Goose, me b’y, bud yez route’ll niver make ye rich. An’ as for Annie, she’ll stay at home, an’ help her mother wid the wurk, as she hav always done. Now don’t be after vexin’ me!” Goose was about to protest; “’twill do ye no good.” And the grocer went on his way down the street leaving the young man gazing despondently after him. He did not notice the approach of Larry and Kerrigan who had just emerged from Dwyer’s; and Larry slapped him on the back, remarking: “Yer lookin’ green around the gills. What’s wrong?” “I’m gittin’ it in the neck, all around,” answered Goose, savagely. “They’re all givin’ me the dinky-dink for further orders. I just now went against Annie’s old man, and he flagged me, cold!” “Oh, was that Clancy you were speaking to?” asked Kerrigan looking interestedly after the retreating figure. “I’ve got something to tell him, but I’ll see him again. Say, you knew old Miss Cassidy, Annie’s aunt, didn’t you, Goose?” “Sure,” answered the milkman. “She was me star customer, up till she died the other day.” “Well, she left a queer kind of a will.” Kerrigan hesitated a moment, and then continued: “Say, I know how it is between you and Annie; walk down the street with us and I’ll tell you about it. It might help you somehow.” As they went along, Kerrigan, with a wealth of technical phrases, explained the peculiarities of the document. A great part of the explanation was Greek to McGonagle; but Larry grasped the points of the matter, and by the time Kerrigan had finished, his face was lighted with suppressed excitement. They paused before the door of the Aurora Borealis Club in the midst of a rapid debate between the two latter gentlemen; finally Larry said: “Then youse’ll keep it quiet for a while?” “Only until to-morrow afternoon,” said Kerrigan, decisively. “You’ll have to work quick.” After the attorney left them, Goose turned to his friend, and inquired bewilderingly: “Say, Murphy, put me next, will youse. What kind o’ a graft have youse got? Hit it out, quick!” Larry leaned against the frame of Riley’s show window and laughed exultantly; McGonagle frowned vexedly at his mirth, snapping his fingers with impatience. “Say!” exclaimed the latter, as Larry continued to laugh, “youse must be crazy. What’s the matter, anyhow?” Larry smothered his laughing, and took Goose rapturously by the lapel of his coat, proceeding to put into words the idea which he had conceived while Kerrigan was speaking. When he had finished, Goose tore himself away and executed a mad acrobatic dance about the sidewalk, and wound it up by throwing his arms about Larry and hugging him until his ribs cracked. “It’s the slickest t’ing I ever run against,” declared he, with enthusiasm. “I always said you was foxy, Murphy; and if youse work this right, ye kin take the front seat, and I’ll never say a word!”