"Well, an' it's me that's the lucky man, an' no mistake!" he cried, while whole-hearted joy seemed to make him young again. "I'll take your help in the spirit it's offered in, sorr. If the situation was revarsed, I'd do what I could for you, because you have the look av a man who'd do unto others that which he wants others to do unto him. An', by that same token, I've as much chance av gettin' Jimmy's stand wid the papers as I have av bein' run for Prisident av the United States next fall." Power took a folded note from his pocketbook. "Put that where the cat can't get it," he said. "And now goodby, and thank you." But something unusual in the aspect of the note caused Rafferty to open it. "Sure, an' you were nearly committin' a terrible blundher!" he cried excitedly. "This is a hundred dollars, sorr, an' you'd be m'anin', mebbe, to give me a foive." "No. Don't be vexed with me, but that amount of money will make things easy during the next month or so." "The next month! Glory be to God, I can live like a prince for three months, on a hundred dollars!" "I firmly believe that you will live better than most princes.... That's right. Stow it away carefully, and don't forget that I am still your debtor." "Why, sorr, I can nivver repay you as long as I live." "Oh, yes, you can. Remember me when you go to the cathedral tomorrow." "Sorr, may I ax yer name?" "Power--John Darien Power." "Arrah, an' are ye Irish?" "No." "'Tis an Irish name, annyhow. But it matthers little what nation ye belong to. You're a rale Christian, an' 'tis writ in your face." "There have been times when I would have doubted that; but the spirit of God has been abroad in New York tonight, and, perhaps, it has descended on me. Once more, goodby! I needn't wish you content, because you cinched that long ago." "Ah, sorr, may Hivin bless ye! Manny's the heart you'll make light in this vale av tears, or I'm no judge av a man." It seemed to Power's overwrought imagination as though Rafferty had suddenly assumed the guise and bearing of a supernatural being. Those concluding words rang in his ears as he hurried away. They had the sound of a message, an exhortation. The iron walls which appeared to encircle him had been cast down. His feet were set on an open road, fair and inviting, and he cared not whither it led so long as he escaped from the prison in which his soul might have been pent eternally. Diving through a press of traffic, he reached the opposite side of a small square. A congestion of street-cars and other vehicles cleared during a brief interval, and, looking back, he saw the old man standing motionless, gazing up at the sky. At that instant a ragged urchin, carrying a bundle of papers, seemed to recognize Rafferty, and spoke to him. The Irishman, called back to earth, bent over the youth, and, evidently obeying a generous impulse, added his own store of "returns" to those of the boy, patted him on the head, and pointed to a doorway.