His first thought had been of Foley. But the fewer his meetings with the walking delegate of the iron workers, the more pleased was he. Then came the second thought that it was better to deal directly with the threatening cause--and so the letter he now wrote was to Tom Keating. The letter was delivered Tuesday morning before Tom left home. He read it in wonderment, for to him any letter was an event: "Will you please call at my office as soon as you can find it convenient. I have something to say that I think will interest you." Guessing wildly as to what this something might be, Tom presented himself at ten o'clock in the outer office of Baxter & Co. The uniform respectfully told him that Mr. Baxter would not be in before twelve. At twelve Tom was back. Yes, Mr. Baxter was in, said the uniform, and hurried away with Tom's name. Again there was a wait before the boy came back, and again a wait in a sheeny chair before Mr. Baxter looked up. "Oh, Mr. Keating," he said. "I see you got my letter." "Yes. This morning." Mr. Baxter did not lose a second. "What I wanted to see you about is this: I understand that some time ago you were inquiring here for a position. It happens that I have a place just now that I'm desirous of filling with an absolutely trustworthy man. Mr. Driscoll spoke very highly to me of you, so I've sent for you." This offer came to Tom as a surprise. His uppermost guess as to the reason for his being summoned had been that Mr. Baxter, repenting of his late non-participation, now wished to join in the fight against Foley. Under other circumstances Tom would have accepted the position, said nothing, and held the job as long as he could. But the fact that the offer was coming to him freely and in good faith prompted him to say: "You must know, Mr. Baxter, that if you give me a job Foley'll make trouble for you." "I have no fear of Mr. Foley's interference," Mr. Baxter answered him quietly. "You haven't!" Tom leaned forward in sudden admiration. "You're the first boss I've struck yet that's not afraid of Foley! He's got 'em all scared stiff. If you'd come out against him----" Tom would have said more but Mr. Baxter's cold reserve, not a change of feature, chilled his enthusiasm. He drew up in his chair. "What's the job?" "Foreman. The salary is forty a week." Tom's heart beat exultantly--and he had a momentary triumph over Maggie. "I'll take it," he said. "Can you begin at once?" "Yes." "Very well. Then I'll want you to leave to-morrow." Tom started. "Leave?" "Yes. Didn't I mention that the job is in Chicago?" Mr. Baxter watched Tom closely out of his steely gray eyes. He saw the flush die out of Tom's face, saw Tom's clasped hands suddenly tighten--and knew his answer before he spoke. "I can't do it," he said with an effort. "I can't leave New York." Mr. Baxter studied Tom's face an instant longer.... But it was too honest.