y one else." And when
they laughed the harder at this he said, stoutly: "Yes, I would!" His
eyes filled with tears at their incredulity, which he feared might be
shared by Mr. Gilmartin. But the toastmaster rose very gravely and said:
"What's the matter with Danny?" And all shouted in unison: "He's all
right!" with a cordiality so heartfelt that Danny smiled and sat down,
blushing happily. And crusty Jameson, who knew he could run the business
so much better than Gilmartin, stood up--he was the last speaker--and
began: "In the ten years I've worked with Gilmartin, we've had our
differences and--well--I--well--er--oh, damn it!" and walked quickly to
the head of the table and shook hands violently with Gilmartin for fully
a minute, while all the others looked on in silence.

Gilmartin had been eager to go to Wall Street. But this leave-taking
made him sad. The old Gilmartin who had worked with these men was no
more and the new Gilmartin felt sorry. He had never stopped to think how
much they cared for him nor indeed how very much he cared for them.

He told them, very simply, he did not expect ever again to spend such
pleasant years anywhere as at the old office; and as for his spells of
ill-temper--oh, yes, they needn't shake their heads; he knew he often
was irritable--he had meant well and trusted they would forgive him. If
he had his life to live over again he would try really to deserve all
that they had said of him on this evening. And he was very, very sorry
to leave them. "Very sorry, boys; very sorry. _Very_ sorry!" he finished
lamely, with a wistful smile. He shook hands with each man--a strong
grip, as though he were about to go on a journey from which he might
never return--and in his heart of hearts there was a new doubt of the
wisdom of going to Wall Street. But it was too late to draw back.

They escorted him to his house. They wished to be with him to the last
possible minute.

III

Everybody in the drug trade seemed to think that Gilmartin was on
the highroad to Fortune. Those old business acquaintances and former
competitors whom he happened to meet in the street-cars or in the
theatre lobbies always spoke to him as to a millionaire-to-be, in what
they imagined was correct Wall Street jargon, to show him that they too
knew something of the great game. But their efforts made him smile with
a sense of superiority, at the same time that their admiration for his
cleverness and their good-natured e