very quietly, "Y-e-s," she said, "I know the Emporium--slightly. That
is--I--own the block that the Emporium is in."

"Gee!" said the Traveling Salesman. "Oh, gee! Now I _know_ I talk too
much!"

In nervously apologetic acquiescence the Young Electrician reached up
a lean, clever, mechanical hand and smouched one more streak of black
across his forehead in a desperate effort to reduce his tousled yellow
hair to the particular smoothness that befitted the presence of a
lady who owned a business block in any city whatsoever.

"My father owned a store in Malden, once," he stammered, just a trifle
wistfully, "but it burnt down, and there wasn't any insurance. We
always were a powerfully unlucky family. Nothing much ever came our
way!"

Even as he spoke, a toddling youngster from an overcrowded seat at the
front end of the car came adventuring along the aisle after the
swaying, clutching manner of tired, fretty children on trains.
Hesitating a moment, she stared up utterly unsmilingly into the
Salesman's beaming face, ignored the Youngish Girl's inviting hand,
and with a sudden little chuckling sigh of contentment, climbed up
clumsily into the empty place beside the Young Electrician, rummaged
bustlingly around with its hands and feet for an instant, in a
petulant effort to make a comfortable nest for itself, and then
snuggled down at last, lolling half-way across the Young Electrician's
perfectly strange knees, and drowsed off to sleep with all the
delicious, friendly, unconcerned sang-froid of a tired puppy. Almost
unconsciously the Young Electrician reached out and unfastened the