“He's the barkeeper who gave me something to eat when I first came to town. He's a good man, even if he is a barkeeper.”
Samuel had often found himself thinking of Finnegan; for it had been altogether against his idea of things that a man so obviously well meaning should be selling liquor. And now suddenly a brilliant idea flashed across his mind. Why should he continue selling liquor? And instantly Samuel saw a new duty before him. He must help Finnegan.
And forgetting that it was time for his dinner, he bade good-by to Sophie and went into the saloon.
“Well, young feller!” exclaimed the Irishman, his face lighting up with pleasure; and then, seeing the boy's new collar and tie, “Gee, you're moving up in the world!”
“I've got a job,” said Samuel proudly. “I'm the assistant sexton at St. Matthew's Church.”
“You don't say! Gone up with the sky pilots, hey!”
Samuel did not notice this irreverent remark. He looked around the place and saw that they were alone. Then he said, very earnestly, “Mr. Finnegan, may I have a few minutes' talk with you?”
“Sure,” said Finnegan perplexed. “What is it?”
“It's something I've been thinking about very often,” said Samuel. “You were so kind to me, and I saw that you were a good-hearted man. And so it has always seemed to me too bad that you should be selling drink.”
The other stared at him. “Gee!” he said, “are you going to take me up in your airship?”