startled expression in her eyes.

She turned now and spoke to the gentleman beside her.

"Robert," she said, in a low, anxious tone, "do you think that--that
there can be anything in it?"

"Have you lost your head, Naida?" the man laughed. "The age of miracles
has passed."

"But he is so _sure_," she whispered.

"Poppycock!" said her companion contemptuously.

The Flopper, in good, if unfashionable and ready-made clothes, fresh
linen, and a clean shave, turned a bright, intelligent face on the man
at this remark.

"I guess youse are de kind," he said, with a grim smile, "dat ain't had
to kill yerself worryin' much about any kind of trouble, an' it ain't
nothin' to you to cut de ground of hope out from another guy's feet an'
let him slide. Mabbe you think I'm nutty too, because I know I'm goin'
to be cured--but it don't hurt you none to have me think so, does it?
Mabbe someday you might like to hope a little yerself, an' if--"

"'Board! All aboard!"--the conductor's voice boomed down the platform.

The young woman leaned forward in her chair toward the Flopper.

"I know what it is to hope," she said softly. "Will you come back into