Harold was wafted up the steps with the rest of the mob and into the sunshine of Broadway. Turning into Wall, he walked briskly to the Consolidated Building. In the elevator he had a chance to snatch a glance at his paper again. But, once inside the ante-office of the Consolidated, he flung the paper with the air of a martyr into the trash basket near the telephone switchboard. Then with a cheery "Good morning" to the telephone girl he hurried through the maze of desks toward the sanctum of the office manager.
A former fellow clerk hailed him. "Say, Swift, I thought you were fired," said this worthy.
"Oh, no," Speedy came back jauntily. "They can't fire me."
That model of efficiency, the office manager, did not put in an appearance until ten o'clock. Speedy greeted him with high ambitions.
"I thought I discharged you," said the office manager gruffly, to Speedy's deep chagrin.
"Oh, no," Speedy said, "you told me that you had some very important outside work which you wanted me to do."
"Oh, yes, I remember," Mr. Talbott conceded. "Well, we'll start you out delivering these papers. They're all in envelopes and marked where they're to go. You can put them in this wallet."
He went to a cabinet nearby an took out an oversized bill-fold with a chain fastened to it, such as bank runners carry.
"Hook this chain to your belt so you won't drop the wallet. And mind these papers—they're very
