tedium by overlooking the efforts of
his professional brethren. He could find no set that included a barber
shop, although they were beds on every hand. He hoped for another night
in the cabin, but if that were not to be, there was a bed easy of
access on Stage Three. When he had observed it, a ghastly old father was
coughing out his life under its blankets, nursed only by his daughter,
a beautiful young creature who sewed by his bedside, and who would
doubtless be thrown upon the world in the very next reel, though--Merton
was glad to note--probably not until the next day.

Yet there was no need for this couch of the tubercular father, for
action in the little cabin was still on. After making the unhappy
discovery in the cafeteria that his appetite could not be hoodwinked by
the clumsy subterfuge of calling coffee and rolls a breakfast some six
hours previously, he went boldly down to stand before his home. Both
miners were at work inside. The room had been placed in order again,
though the little mountain flower was gone. A letter, he gathered, had
been received from her, and one of the miners was about to leave on a
long journey.

Merton could not be sure, but he supposed that the letter from the
little girl told that she was unhappy in her new surroundings, perhaps
being ill-treated by the supercilious Eastern relatives. The miner who
was to remain helped the other to pack his belongings in a quaint old
carpet sack, and together they undid a bundle which proved to contain
a splendid new suit. Not only this, but now came a scene of eloquent
appeal to the watcher outside the door. The miner who was to remain
expressed stern disapproval of the departing miner's beard. It would
never do, he was seen to intimate, and when the other miner portrayed
helplessness a new package was unwrapped and a safety razor revealed to
his shocked gaze.

At this sight Merton Gill felt himself growing too emotional for a mere
careless bystander, and withdrew to a distance where he could regain
better control of himself. When he left the miner to be shorn was
betraying comic dismay while the other pantomimed the correct use of
the implement his thoughtfulness had provided. When he returned after
half--an-hour's rather nervous walk up another street, the departing
miner was clean shaven and one might note the new razor glittering on
the low bench beside the battered tin basin.

They worked late in his home that night; trifling scenes wer