The annual hauling contract for the brewery, which had become an important one in Rockville, its business having nearly doubled in the last few years, was of special value to Tom at this time, and she determined to make every effort to secure it. Pop filled up the proposal in his round, clear hand, and Tom signed it, “Thomas Grogan, Rockville, Staten Island.” Then Pop witnessed it, and Mr. Crane, a few days later, duly inscribed the firm's name under the clause reserved for bondsmen. After that Tom brought the bid home, and laid it on the shelf over her bed. Everything was now ready for the fight. The bids were to be opened at noon in the office of the brewery. By eleven o'clock the hangers-on and idlers began to lounge into the big yard paved with cobblestones. At half past eleven McGaw got out of a buggy, accompanied by Quigg. At a quarter to twelve Tom, in her hood and ulster, walked rapidly through the gate, and, without as much as a look at the men gathered about the office door, pushed her way into the room. Then she picked up a chair and, placing it against the wall, sat down. Sticking out of the breast pocket of her ulster was the big envelope containing her bid. Five minutes before the hour the men began filing in one by one, awkwardly uncovering their heads, and standing in one another's way. Some, using their hats as screens, looked over the rims. When the bids were being gathered up by the clerk, Dennis Quigg handed over McGaw's. The ease with which Dan had raised the money on his notes had invested that gentleman with some of the dignity and attributes of a capitalist; the hired buggy and the obsequious Quigg indicated this. His new position was strengthened by the liberal way in which he had portioned out his possessions to the workingman. It was further sustained by the hope that he might perhaps repeat his generosities in the near future. At twelve o'clock precisely Mr. Schwartz, a round, bullet-headed German, entered the room, turned his revolving-chair, and began to cut the six envelopes heaped up before him on his desk, reading the prices aloud as he opened them in succession, the clerk recording. The first four were from parties in outside villages. Then came McGaw's:-- “Forty-nine cents for coal, etc.” So far he was lowest. Quigg twisted his hat nervously, and McGaw's coarse face grew red and white by turns. Tom's bid was the last. “Thomas Grogan, Rockville, S.I., thirty-eight cents for coal, etc.” “Gentlemen,” said Mr. Schwartz, quietly, “Thomas Grogan gets the hauling.” VIII. POP MULLINS'S ADVICE