TOM GROGAN
came from a woman listening over the banisters.
“Be doin'?” rejoined a red-headed virago. “Wouldn't ye be doin' it yerself if ye had that big coal-dealer behind ye?”
“Oh, we hear enough. Who says they're in it?” rejoined a third listener.
“Pete Lathers says so—the yard boss. He was a-tellin' me man yisterday.”
On consulting Justice Rowan the next morning, McGaw and his friends found but little comfort. The law was explicit, the justice said. The contract must be given to the lowest responsible bidder. Tom had deposited her certified check of five hundred dollars with the bid, and there was no informality in her proposal. He was sorry for McGaw, but if Mrs. Grogan signed the contract there was no hope for him. The horse-doctor's action was right. If McGaw's second bid had been received, it would simply have invalidated both of his, the law forbidding two from the same bidder.
Rowan's opinion sustaining Tom's right was a blow he did not expect. Furthermore, the justice offered no hope for the future. The law gave Tom the award, and nothing
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