THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
"My name is Grogan," said William, giving the honors to the boy because he was in a hurry.
"Oh! Middle door; Mr. Bell," said the girl, her eyes full of sudden interest.
The boy shuffled to the door and opened it. "Mister Grogan," he announced, with fine irony.
"Show him in at once."
As he was passing through the doorway, William turned and lightly blew a kiss toward the boy, who, thorough sportsman that he was, recognized this red-head as a brother.
"Mr. Grogan?"
"Yes."
"Be seated." Mr. Bell was a middle-aged man. "You had an uncle in St. Louis?"
"Ye-ah; Michael Regan."
The lawyer nodded. "Your mother's name?"
"Amelia. Michael was her brother."
"Have you absolute legal proof that you are Amelia Regan's son?"
"Sure!" William produced the marriage certificate, pleased that Burns had suggested bringing it.
Mr. Bell adjusted his glasses. "This is Amelia Regan's certificate of marriage, but that doesn't prove you're her son, Mr. Grogan."
"Turn it over," advised William, wetting his lips and stretching his neck out of his collar, which had grown suddenly tight.
"Ah!"
On the reverse side of the certificate was the date of William's arrival into this mortal coil,
15
