genuine laughter. "Yes," she teased, "I can see just how pleased your
wife would be to have you bring home a perfectly strange lady for
Sunday!"

"My wife is only a kid," said the Traveling Salesman gravely, "but she
likes what I like--all right--and she'd give you the shrewdest,
eagerest little 'helping hand' that you ever got in your life--if you'd
only give her a chance to help you out--with whatever your trouble
is."

"But I haven't any 'trouble,'" persisted the Youngish Girl with brisk
cheerfulness. "Why, I haven't any trouble at all! Why, I don't know
but what I'd just as soon tell you all about it. Maybe I really ought
to tell somebody about it. Maybe--anyway, it's a good deal easier to
tell a stranger than a friend. Maybe it would really do me good to
hear how it sounds out loud. You see, I've never done anything but
whisper it--just to myself--before. Do you remember the wreck on the
Canadian Pacific Road last year? Do you? Well--I was in it!"

"Gee!" said the Traveling Salesman. "'Twas up on just the edge of
Canada, wasn't it? And three of the passenger coaches went off the
track? And the sleeper went clear over the bridge? And fell into an
awful gully? And caught fire besides?"

"Yes," said the Youngish Girl. "I was in the sleeper."

Even without seeming to look at her at all, the Traveling Salesman
could see quite distinctly that the Youngish Girl's knees were fairly
knocking together and that the flesh around her mouth was suddenly
gray and drawn, like an old person's. But the little persistent desire