"Well," said Dan, "you know that—that trouble the boy got into back—back——'
"Yes, I know," said Regan hastily.
"Well," said Dan, "it's taken a long time, a good many years, but yesterday, you know, was pay day; and to-day, Regan, we, the missus and me, Regan, sent the last of that money East, interest and all, the last cent of it, cleaned it all up. Say, Regan, I feel like I was walking on air, and you'd ought to have seen the missus sitting up there in the cottage and smiling through the tears. 'Oh, Dan!' she says, and then she gets up and puts her two hands on my shoulders, and I felt blamed near like crying myself. 'We can start in now, Dan, to save up for old age,' she says, smiling. Say, Regan, ain't it—ain't it fine? We're going to start in now and save up for old age."
Regan didn't say a word. It came with a rush, choking him up in his throat, and something misty in front of his eyes so he couldn't see—and he turned his back, searching for his hat on the peg behind his desk. He jammed his hat on his head, and jerked it low down over his forehead.
"Ain't you—glad?" said old Dan, a sort of puzzled hurt in his eyes.
"I'll walk over a bit of the way to the roundhouse with you, Dan," said Regan gruffly. "Come on."
They stepped out of the shops, and across a spur—old Dan, still puzzled, striding along beside the master mechanic.
"What's the matter, Regan?" he asked reproachfully. "I thought you'd be——"
And then Regan stopped—and his hand fell in a tight grip on the other's shoulder.
"I got to tell you, Dan," he blurted out. "But I don't need to tell you what I think of it. It's a damned shame! The new crowd that's running this road don't want anybody helping 'em to do it after the first of the month that's over sixty years of age. You're—you're out."