Page:MacGrath--The luck of the Irish.djvu/125

 and drank her broth greedily. She did not look like a person who had spent most of the night on deck.

The daughter of a scholar, herself well educated, well bred, beautiful; what chance had William Grogan, of Burns, Dolan & Co., estimable plumbers though they were? No chance whatever. So he bravely laid away his love in lavender. But there was no barrier to friendship. He might salvage that prize out of the wreck of his dreams.

"What are you reading this morning?" she inquired.

"Something five thousand miles over my head." He held out the book.

Instantly her expression changed. "Where did you get this?" she cried, seizing the book.

"In the library." William found his embarrassment of sizable dimensions. Spiritually he writhed.

She hugged the book to her heart suddenly, and her eyes sparkled with tears. "My poor, unhappy father! Mr. Grogan, this is no accident. How did you find it?"

"I'm a mean dog, I suppose. Well, I saw you that day at Cook's. I didn't think much of it at the time. But when you turned out to be the school-teacher around the corner, why, that was different. I just couldn't help being interested. You see, for three years you were a friend of mine, though you didn't know it, and I was kind of watching over you. So long as you never slowed up going by that window, I thought everything