"Oh! But ain't you a brick!" he cried fervently, adding earnestly: "It
ain't a present you're makin' me, though! I'll pay it back, so help me
bob!"
At the pier the crowd of immigrants pushed and crowded impatiently as
they waited for the cabin passengers to go ashore. Among them was
Sandy, bareheaded and in motley garb, laughing and shoving with the
best of them, hanging over the railing, and keeping up a fire of
merriment at the expense of the crowd below. In his hand was a letter
of recommendation to the physician in charge at the City Hospital, and
in his inside pocket a ten-dollar bill was buttoned over a heart that
had not a care in the world. In the great stream of life Sandy was one
of the bubbles that are apt to come to the top.
"You better come down to Kentucky with me," urged Ricks Wilson,
resuming an old argument. "I'm goin' to peddle my way back home, then
git a payin' job at the racetrack."
"Wasn't I tellin' ye that it was a doctor I'm goin' to be?" asked
Sandy, impatiently. Already Ricks's friendship was proving irksome.
On the gang-plank above him the passengers were leaving the ship.
Some delay had arisen, and for a moment the procession halted.
Suddenly Sandy caught his breath. There, just above him, stood "the
damsel passing fair.
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