As he turned down the short street leading to the station, he caught sight of Garry forging ahead on his way to the train.  That rising young architect, chairman of the Building Committee of the Council, trustee of church funds, politician and all-round man of the world—­most of which he carried in a sling—­seemed in a particularly happy frame of mind this morning judging from the buoyancy with which he stepped.  This had communicated itself to the gayety of his attire, for he was dressed in a light-gray check suit, and wore a straw hat (the first to see the light of summer) with a green ribbon about the crown,—­together with a white waistcoat and white spats, the whole enriched by a red rose bud which Corinne had with her own hands pinned in his buttonhole.

“Why, hello!  Jack, old man! just the very fellow I’m looking for,” cried the joyous traveller.  “You going to New York?—­So am I,—­go every day now,—­got something on ice,—­the biggest thing I’ve ever struck.  I’ll show that uncle of yours that two can play at his game.  He hasn’t lifted his hand to help us, and I don’t want him to,—­Cory and I can get along; but you’d think he’d come out and see us once in a while, wouldn’t you, or ask after the baby; Mrs. Breen comes, but not Breen.  We live in the country and have tar on our heels, he thinks.  Here,—­sit by the window!  Now let’s talk of something else.  How’s Miss Ruth and the governor?  He’s a daisy;—­ best engineer anywhere round here.  Yes, Cory’s all right.  Baby keeps her awake half the night; I’ve moved out and camp upstairs; can’t stand it.  Oh, by the way, I see you are about finishing up on the railroad work.  I’ll have something to say to you next week on the damage question.  Got all the reports in last night.  I tell you, my old chief, Mr. Morris, is a corker!  What he doesn’t know about masonry isn’t worth picking up;—­can’t fool him!  That’s what’s the matter with half of our younger men; they sharpen lead-pencils, mix ink, and think they are drawing; or they walk down a stone wall and don’t know any more what’s behind it and what holds it up than a child.  Mr. Morris can not only design a wall, but he can teach some first-class mechanics how to lay it.”

Jack looked out the window and watched the fences fly past.  For the moment he made no reply to Garry’s long harangue—­especially the part referring to the report.  Anxious as he was to learn the result of the award, he did not want the facts from the chairman of the committee in advance of the confirmation by the Council.

“What is it you have on ice, Garry?” he asked at last with a laugh, yielding to an overpowering conviction that he must change the subject—­“a new Corn Exchange?  Nobody can beat you in corn exchanges.”

“Not by a long shot, Jack,—­got something better; I am five thousand ahead now, and it’s all velvet.”

“Gold-mine, Garry?” queried Jack, turning his head.  “Another Mukton Lode?  Don’t forget poor Charlie Gilbert; he’s been clerking it ever since, I hear.”