choky collar of the heavy, sweltering little overcoat; yet not a
glance from his face had either lured or caressed the strange child
for a single second. Just for a moment, then, his smiling eyes
reassured the jaded, jabbering French-Canadian mother, who turned
round with craning neck from the front of the car.

"She's all right here. Let her alone!" he signaled gesticulatingly
from child to mother.

Then, turning to the Traveling Salesman, he mused reminiscently:
"Talking's--all--right. But where in creation do you get the time to
_think_? Got any kids?" he asked abruptly.

"N-o," said the Traveling Salesman. "My wife, I guess, is kid enough
for me."

Around the Young Electrician's eyes the whimsical smile-wrinkles
deepened with amazing vividness. "Huh!" he said. "I've got six."

"Gee!" chuckled the Salesman. "Boys?"

The Young Electrician's eyebrows lifted in astonishment. "Sure they're
boys!" he said. "Why, of course!"

The Traveling Salesman looked out far away through the window and
whistled a long, breathy whistle. "How in the deuce are you ever going
to take care of 'em?" he asked. Then his face sobered suddenly. "There
was only two of us fellows at home--just Daniel and me--and even
so--there weren't ever quite enough of anything to go all the way
round."