"It's no use you talking, Mrs. MacQuigan," he said gruffly, to hide his emotion. "I'd fire any man on earth, 'tis no matter the who or why, for drinking in the cab on a run."
"But, Regan," she begged, catching at his arm, "he'll be leaving Big Cloud with his job gone."
"And what then?" said Regan. "Mabbe 'twould be the best thing—h'm?"
"Ah, Regan," she said, and her voice caught a little, "sure, 'twould be the end of Martin, don't you see? 'Tis me that knows him, and 'twill not last long, the spell, only till the worst of it is over—Martin is too fine for that, Regan. If I can keep him by me, Regan, d'ye mind? If he goes away where there's nobody to give him a thought he'll—he'll—ah, Regan, faith, Regan, 'tis a lot you've thought of Martin Bradley the same as me."
Regan examined a crack in the planking of the station platform minutely, while Mrs. MacQuigan held tenaciously to his coat sleeve.
"I dunno," said Regan heavily. "I dunno. Mabbe I'll——"
"Ah, Regan!" she cried happily. "I knew 'twas——"
"Not in a cab!" interposed Regan hastily. "Not if he was the president of the road. But I'll see, Mrs. MacQuigan, I'll see."
And Regan saw—Thornley, the trainmaster. And after Thornley, he saw Reddy MacQuigan in the roundhouse.
"Reddy," said he, with a growl that wasn't real, "there's a vacancy in the engine crews—h'm?"