“What’s up?” asked Johnny.  “Who’s the superintendent of the Oriel mine?  Why do we drink to him?  What are you all grinning about, anyway?” The cork flew up to the ceiling, and the butler poured gold bubbles into the glasses, all but his own.

“Can’t I drink to the beggar, too, whoever he is?” asked Johnny, and moved his glass and glanced up at Mullins.  But his father was beaming at Mullins in a most unusual way and Johnny got no wine.  With that Ted, the oldest brother, pushed back his chair and stood and lifted his glass.

“We’ll drink,” he said, and bowed formally to Johnny, “to the gentleman who is covering us all with glory, to the new superintendent of the Oriel mine, Mr. John Archer McLean,” and they stood and drank the toast.  Johnny, more or less dizzy, more or less scarlet, crammed his hands in his pockets and started and turned redder, and brought out interrogations in the nervous English which is acquired at our great institutions of learning.

“Gosh! are you all gone dotty?” he asked.  And “Is this a merry jape?” And “Why, for cat’s sake, can’t you tell a fellow what’s up your sleeve?” While the family sipped champagne and regarded him.

“Now, if I’ve squirmed for you enough, I wish you’d explain—­ father, tell me!” the boy begged.

And the tale was told by the family, in chorus, without politeness, interrupting freely.  It seemed that the president of the big mine needed a superintendent, and wishing young blood and the latest ideas had written to the head of the Mining Department in the School of Technology to ask if he would give him the name of the ablest man in the graduating class—­a man to be relied on for character as much as brains, he specified, for the rough army of miners needed a general at their head almost more than a scientist.  Was there such a combination to be found, he asked, in a youngster of twenty-three or twenty-four, such as would be graduating from the “Tech”?  If possible, he wanted a very young man—­he wanted the enthusiasm, he wanted the athletic tendency, he wanted the plus-strength, he wanted the unmade reputation which would look for its making to hard work in the mine.  The letter was produced and read to the shamefaced Johnny.  “Gosh!” he remarked at intervals and remarked practically nothing else.  There was no need.  They were so proud and so glad that it was almost too much for the boy who had been a failure three years ago.

On the urgent insistence of every one he made a speech.  He got to his six-feet-two slowly, and his hands went into his trousers pockets as usual.  “Holy mackerel,” he began—­“I don’t call it decent to knock the wind out of a man and then hold him up for remarks.  They all said in college that I talked the darnedest hash in the class, anyway.  But you will have it, will you?  I haven’t got anything to say, so’s you’d notice it, except that I’ll be blamed if I see how this is true.  Of course I’m keen for