desk. He wrote some instructions for his man on a pre-
scription pad and then drew on his overcoat. "All ready,"
he announced, putting out his lamp. Mr. Kronborg rose
and they tramped through the empty hall and down the
stairway to the street. The drug store below was dark, and
the saloon next door was just closing. Every other light on
Main Street was out.

On either side of the road and at the outer edge of the
board sidewalk, the snow had been shoveled into breast-
works. The town looked small and black, flattened down
in the snow, muffled and all but extinguished. Overhead
the stars shone gloriously. It was impossible not to notice
them. The air was so clear that the white sand hills to the
east of Moonstone gleamed softly. Following the Reverend
Mr. Kronborg along the narrow walk, past the little dark,
sleeping houses, the doctor looked up at the flashing night
and whistled softly. It did seem that people were stupider
than they need be; as if on a night like this there ought to
be something better to do than to sleep nine hours, or to
assist Mrs. Kronborg in functions which she could have
performed so admirably unaided. He wished he had gone
down to Denver to hear Fay Templeton sing "See-Saw."
Then he remembered that he had a personal interest in this

family, after all. They turned into another street and saw
before them lighted windows; a low story-and-a-half house,
with a wing built on at the right and a kitchen addition at