The widow regarded him earnestly. She saw how her refusal would pain him and she yielded. "Well, then," she said, "wan place, Pat dear, I'll give up. And it'll be Wednesday, because 'twas on a Wednesday that your luck come to you." Another month went by and the holiday trade was over. Nevertheless the amount of custom at Mr. Farnham's did not diminish much. Ladies who went out on looking tours, if they began at Farnham's ended there by purchasing. If they stopped first at Wall's they went on to Farnham's and bought there. Mr. Wall was not blind. And so, one day General Brady walked into Mr. Farnham's store and back to his desk again. "Another rise?" asked the merchant laughingly. "Something of the sort," was the rejoinder. "Mr. Wall offers forty dollars a month for Pat." "He doesn't take him though," was the significant answer. The General laughed. "I see you appreciate him," he said. "Well, to tell the truth, General, I know my right hand man when I see him, and Pat O'Callaghan is his name. I only wish there were two of him." The General's face grew thoughtful. "There may be," he said at length. "His next brother, Mike, is at our house, and just as much of a born trader as Pat. His ways, however, are a little different." Mr. Farnham put out his hand. "I take this hint as very kind of you, General. When may I have him?" "Could you wait till next fall? He ought to finish this school year. Next winter I could take charge of him one evening a week together with Pat. The terms must be the same for him as they were for Pat when he began--fifteen dollars a month and one evening each week out." "All right, General. I'll be frank with you---I'm glad to get him on those terms. I begin to think that it's enough of a recommendation for a boy to be an O'Callaghan." The General smiled as he left Mr. Farnham's desk, and on his way out of the store, he stopped to speak to Pat. "What is your greatest ambition, my boy?" he asked. And he knew what answer he would receive before Pat replied, "To have a store with O'Callaghan Brothers over the door." Again the General smiled, and this time very kindly. "I'll tell you a sort of a secret," he said, "that isn't so much of a secret that you need to hesitate about speaking of it. Mike's coming to Mr. Farnham next fall." Then the boy got hold of the man's hand. "General Brady," he began after a moment of silence, "you know I can't thank you as I ought in words, but----" and then he stopped. This boy who could fight to defend his small brother, who could face contempt to ease his mother's burdens, who could grub and dig and win a chance for his own promotion, was very near to tears. He did not wish to shed those tears, and the General knew it. So with a hearty "Good-by, Pat," the fine old soldier passed on. CHAPTER XVII