woes that she had during a long and dreary year borne with fortitude,
she temporarily overcame her weakness, and with a clear voice she
counted: "One, two, three," and then the poor woman paused, it seemed
the strain had almost been too much for her, and then in a faltering,
almost inaudible voice she continued: "Peoria Red, Helen McDonald, Henry
McDonald," and then collapsed.

I carried her limp, unconscious form into the parlor, and after some
efforts managed to bring her out of the faint, and when she had fully
recovered so as to withstand the ordeal, she slowly repeated to me the
story of her summer's experience, how Foreman McDonald, unable to be
without his Helen, had wasted to a shadow of his former self; and in
August had died of a broken heart, and how only the thoughts that upon
her own frail self had now devolved the duty to provide for their three
small sons had given her the strength to resolve not to succumb to a
like fate. Her voice brightened when she told me that in all her misery
there had come one tiny streak of good fortune to her, a poor, helpless
widow cast upon the mercy of the world with three children. The new
section foreman, whom the company had sent to fill the vacancy caused by
Mr. McDonald's death, proved to be a crusty, old bachelor of perhaps
sixty-five who no doubt appreciating a few extra comforts at his age,
gladly consented to have Mrs. McDonald remain and continue taking charge
of the section house, and the boarding crew, in return for a small
stipend and a shelter for herself and her fatherless children.

When in the evening the new foreman and the crew came home from their
work, Mrs. McDonald spoke a word in my favor, and although there was no
need of an additional laborer, the new foreman, after he had heard my
story, engaged my services.