the girl's farewells. And now he was delightedly repeating to himself
her promise--"I'll be back when the lilacs bloom again."

Then quite suddenly he stepped from the train and made his way to where
the magenta-pink and violet lights of Martin's drugstore glowed in the
night. He bought a soda and some magazines and asked the druggist an
odd question.

"When," asked the stranger, smiling, "will the lilacs bloom again in
this town?"

Martin, who for hours had been rushing madly about, waiting on the
thirsty crowd of stalled visitors, stopped to stare. But he answered.
Something in the mysteriously rich face of the big, brown boy made him
eager to answer.

"From the middle of next May on into early June."

The stranger smiled his thanks in a way that made Martin look at his
clerk with a mournful eye.

"Jee-rusalem! Now, Eddie, why can't you smile like that? Say, if I
had _that_ fellow behind this soda counter I'd be doing a rushing
business every night."

When the Limited was again winging its way toward the Golden West and
train life had settled down to its regular routine, one dining-car
waiter was saying to another:

"Yes, sah--the gentleman in Number 7 is sure the mighty-nicest white