faintest notion I could? Zack's a Fancher, and that settled it for me."

"I'm sure you did right," Angie murmured. Then, as the front door opened, "Here's our Ruth back from the store."

Ruth came in gaily. She was a glowing, lovely girl, dark like Lida, but without so much character in her looks. "I couldn't find a bit of lace like I wanted in this town," she said, as she ran up to the stove to warm herself. "But, oh, girls, I wish you'd seen what I saw. They've got the loveliest parlor suit down. at Slater's a stuffed settee, with cushions to match. But it's $150.”

"It might just as well be a hundred and fifty thousand as far as we're concerned," said Angie. She got up and began to poke the fire furiously.

"Oh, well, I was just telling you about it," said Ruth. "I like to see pretty things. I matched that silk. Look here."

Lida rose and went upstairs. She sang bravely until she had got into her room, and sank down by the bed. "I wish I hadn't sent him away," she said with a sob. "Maybe I might better have been unhappy with him than wretched without him. Oh, Zack, why couldn't you have been more like what I wanted you to be?" Tears came hot and swift. But for all that, she seemed to see Zack Fancher, tall and slender, with his fair hair lying above his white forehead, and his chin that seemed to promise so much strength of character, and he had failed.

Lida

The girls were getting tea. dragged herself to her feet, bathed her face and went down stairs.

"You've come just in time to make the tea," cried Ruth. "Make up a good strong cup, Lida. It's going to be a cold night."

Lida put an extra pinch into the teapot and poured on the boiling water. Then they sat down at the table. There was little besides the tea, but Ruth, in her happiness, ate heartily and laughed merrily. Lida only pretended to eat. She was thinking miserably of her troubles.

"Stop laughing, Ruth," Angie said sharply after a moment. "Some one's knocking at the back door."

"It's only Mrs. Madigan." Ruth said. She sprang up and opened the door. The

came home with a whole pocket full of news. Girls," she came to the table and leaned upon it, looking at the three of them, a little breathlessly. "Francis has got him a new job and we've got to move to the city. But we'll only have three or four rooms and I shan't be able to take only a few of my things. Would you mind storing my parlor suite for me?"

"Your parlor suite!" cried Angie.

Mrs. Madigan nodded. "The whole thing-rugs, sofa, pictures, piano, and all. I don't like to put 'em in somebody's attic for the rats to eat up. If you could store 'em in that empty room of yours, you can use 'em for the accommodation. I know you'd be just as careful of 'em as if they were your own."

"Of course we would," said Angie, who was the only one capable of speaking. Her cheeks were red and her eyes sparkling. As for Lida, she sank back in her chair, feeling almost faint with relief. Perhaps their neighbor had guessed the tragedy of the parlor, though they had tried to keep it to themselves. She wondered.

"We'll miss you greatly," said Ruth. "I hoped you'd be able to come to my_"

Mrs. Madigan patted Ruth's shoulder. "So did I, love," she said, "but my prayers will be with you." She looked at Lida curiously. "And maybe there'll be a second wedding in your family soon," she suggested.

"What do you mean?" demanded Angie.

Mrs. Madigan smiled. “Why, that's a part of the pocketful of news Francis brought home with him tonight. Zack Fancher has come back to work for the E. G. people at the biggest salary you ever heard of. Seems he's been studying and picking up all the time he's been gone, and when he got where he wanted to be he wrote to the E. G. people and sent in his recommends and all, and they (Continued on Page 74)

I

IT'S GOT US ALL up in the air. I've been railroading for the past ten years, and I've seen all sorts of queer people, but she's got them all stopped." The trainman glanced down the long platform that led from the train gates of the concourse. His companion, an extra trainman, assigned to the local run for the day, followed the speaker's glance.

Two neatly attired men came through the gates, followed by a pair of laughing companions. As the foremost pair drew close to where the trainmen stood, the extra man saw that their hands were handcuffed together.

"We get a bunch of them on this train," remarked the regular trainman, as the two prisoners, followed by their guards, entered the smoker. "It's a great game; guessing whether they are going up for ten years, twenty, life or the chair."

His companion shuddered.

"This woman," resumed the trainman, "has been riding with us for the past two weeks. And every trip she acts the same way. Watch her on the trip, and after we get in and see what you make of it."

The conductor's echoing voice called: "All a-board!"

"Here she comes!" exclaimed the trainman. "She always comes through at the last call."

A slight, quietly garbed woman hastened through the gates, and hurried toward the foreward end of the train. She carried a suit case, and the extra trainman noted a wedding ring on her finger as she placed her hand on the platform rail of the coach. He hunted up his companion as the train gathered headway. "She's young and married," he stated eagerly. "I found out that much, anyway."

"Watch her, that's all," returned his mate. "We know that much."

The woman chose a seat in the fore

ward end of the coach following the smoker, where, deeply absorbed in thought she ignored the presence of those around her. Once only on the trip did anything occur that aroused her from her seeming apathy. Just before the train. arrived at its suburban terminal, from which the same crew was scheduled to return in thirty minutes, the train passed through a short, murky tunnel that ran beneath the yard of a state's prison. As the train entered the tunnel the trainmen noted that the woman drew away, as if in fear.

At the arrival of the train at its terminal, the woman gathered up her belongings and entered the station, from which she soon emerged to pace up and down the rear platform. The trainman, his curiosity aroused by her nervous manner, watched her closely.

The station was adapted to the needs of both freight and passenger service. On one end was the waiting room; at the other a fairly large freight house. Along one end of the rear platform, raised in front of the freight end of the station, usually stood several freight cars.

The trainman noted that the woman seemed to be interested in the freight end of the business, and the arrival and departure of the teamsters hauling freight. Ten minutes before the scheduled departure of the local on its return to the city, she took her suitcase from the platform, where it had set during her agitated. pacing, and entered the waiting room.

The trainman sauntered in behind her. He was joined by his mate. "Watch her" whispered the regular man.

She entered a telephone booth and remained for a few moments, then emerging she started for the train.

As the train pulled out the extra man dropped back and joined his companion. soberly.

"It's got me stumped," he remarked soberly.

"She has done the same thing for the

past two weeks," returned the other. "The same on the train, same at the station. Never varies a hair from what you saw.'

The extra trainman remained silent.

Of all the desirable positions held in the old prison, of which the duties were performed by trusties, the most sought after was that of outside teamster.

The position held its envied attraction in that the trusty engaged with its easy tasks had an opportunity to drive through the small village that lay on a hill above the prison, and down the long hill that led to the freight house, there to see and talk with outsiders while loading the prison freight. In charge of a lenient guard, confident of his charge's honor, the driver was allowed a fair share of liberty around the freight house.

At the arrival of the truck the guard would hasten to the agent's office to transact his business. The usual arrival of The usual arrival of the truck was from nine a. m. until the departure of the way-freight, which followed the local from the yard. Thus the driver held a position, that to the inmates of the prison, doomed to grim walls, seemed little short of true liberty.

Inside the brick walls of the prison, two convicts, companions in mind and deportment, were lolling in the wall's shadow. "It's a rank case of 'pull'," the short, stocky one of the pair was saying as he dug the toe of his squat shoe in the earth. "Here is this guy, because he lifts a bundle of bank funds gets only five years, and he ain't here but a year when he gets the truck!"

Handsome Jim, gentlemanly sneak thief, signifies by vicious oaths his approval of his companion's views. "I was booked for that job when Tony got parole," he stated sourly.

"Always before," added the first speaker, "the long term men got the truck on the last end of their bit. It shows what a pull will do." He ended his plaint with oaths that equaled those of his companion.

"Even at that, he ain't got pull enough to get parole," said the other with an intense note of satisfaction in his voice.

"You know how that is," replied the other. "The judge said he would give

him the limit as an example. Ever since he came in his friends have been working to get him out, and the truck's part of their work. There's others to see that he stays his bit," he added vindictively. "Say, Jimmy," he demanded suddenly, "why don't you get him right and have it out with him?"

"Won't I get the same dose as him?" inquired the other with a sneer. "We would both get marked up for punishment."

His companion admitted the truth of this with a curse. An officious guard interrupted the further recital of their fancied wrongs.

The same evening the envied driver of the truck, unconscious of the animosity of the pair, performed his work at the stable with extreme leisure. The last duty for the night finished he started across the prison yard toward the cellblock. Dusk was settling as the various squads of convicts, on their way from the workshops to the cells, tramped across the yard in charge of bored guards. A few trusties, among whom were the disgruntled pair of the yard, were more deliberate in their journey.

The driver of the truck, free to wend his way alone, went toward a narrow passage between two large buildings that offered a short-cut to the cell-block entrance. The two cronies noted his move and with an impulsive motive started after him. As he heard a sudden rush of feet behind him the driver started to turn, when he reeled from a heavy blow on the head. He made an effort to draw himself together when another blow descended and he sank unconscious to the ground.

Two days later the eight-thirty local from the city pulled into its suburban terminal. After the usual glance at the regular rider the crew raced toward a nearby lunch cart for a brief repast. The agent paid the woman a brief glance and went about his duties. The woman, as was her custom, lingered for a moment in the waiting room, and then strolled out on the rear platform.

The platform was deserted, and as she paced its length, she glanced in at the silent freight house. As she started back

toward the waiting room, she gazed up the hill that led to the village. Starting down was the prison truck. She looked around with a quick, searching glance, then sat the suit case near the open door of a freight car. With an appearance of joy she hastily entered the waiting room and darting into the telephone booth she called an exchange located several stations down the road. She awaited impatiently until she had received her connection. "Wait with the car, Jerry," she exclaimed breathlessly. "Everything is all right. He is coming now. Have you the closed car?" The answer caused a pleased smile that lightened the sad lines of her face, and hanging up the receiver she left the booth and made her way to the train.

As the truck drove up to the platform the guard climbed down from the seat and entering the agent's office left his charge to wander around the freight house. The convict noted with eager eyes the deserted suit case. With a quick, furtive glance toward the office he hastily seized and slipped it into the open car. Behind a large crate he deftly undid the fastenings and threw back the lid. Folded neatly inside was a suit of clothing, and lying on top was a roll of bills and a railroad ticket.

He rapidly divested himself of the gray, drab uniform of the convict and robed himself in the garb of a sedate man of business. With firm hands he swept the discarded garments into the suitcase and going to the door peered out with determined eyes. His hand felt into the side pocket of his coat and tense fingers gripped the butt of a revolver. As he

stepped out on the platform he paused for a moment to note the way. The suit case carried carelessly in his hand he started for the far end of the platform. He glanced back as he made to drop to the ground, and his hand half withdrew from the coat pocket when he noted the guard standing outside the agent's office staring intently at the truck. The guard re-entered the office and the escaping convict breathed a sigh of relief. He dropped from the platform and calmly made his way to the train. He had scarcely entered when the conductor signaled for the train to proceed.

The liberated convict, his face aglow at the smoothness of the escape, started toward the front end of the coach. As the train entered the prison tunnel he paused for a moment to shake his fist at the receding walls. The train emerged from the tunnel into the light of day and the convict once more started ahead. He gave a quick start as a whispered voice guardily hailed him, and with a natural movement he half turned.

The woman of mystery was leaning toward him, her lips parted in a tremulous smile, and her eyes fixed on the well known lines of his clothing.

The convict turned to greet her. The woman's tense look followed his deliberate movement.

With a sob of hopeless agony she dropped back in her seat. Her glance should have revealed long, past miseries of agonizing night, heart-sick days that were to be no more, and the reward of faith and courage; instead her tearblinded eyes gazed blankly at the smug face of "Handsome Jim."