the village in which the girl
had been living for eight months.

Colonel Van Dyne, owner of one of the canning factories, had a fine home
on the heights overlooking the lake. It was with the colonel's gardener
and superintendent that Nelson Haley had an acquaintance, and through
that acquaintanceship had obtained the cut flowers from the colonel's
greenhouse.

When the three had hurried up the half-cleared landing to the railroad
station, Janice fairly staggering between her two companions, the office
was closed and nobody was about the railroad premises. It was a holiday,
and no more trains were expected at the Landing until night.

Janice all but broke down at this added bad turn of affairs. To come all
this distance only to be balked!

"It's jest blamed _mean_!" sputtered Marty. "Telegraph shops ain't got
no right to shut up--in the daytime, too."

"It's not a Western Union wire," explained Nelson. "The railroad only
takes ordinary messages as a matter of convenience. But wait! That
door's open and there's a fire in the waiting-room, you see. Just
because this card says the agent and operator won't be here till five
o'clock doesn't mean that he's gone out of town. Besides, I'll see my
friend, Jim Watrous."

This was the gardener and general factotum at Colonel Van Dyne's. The
Poketown school-teacher hurried away, and left Janice and Marty sitting
together in the railroad station.

"He'll find some way--don't you fear, Janice," said the boy, with much
more sympathy than he had ever shown before. Janice squeezed his hand
and hid her own face. She could not forget how Marty had tried the
evening before to hide the knowledge of her father's fate from her.
_This_ was a much different Marty than the boy she had first met at the
old Day house on her arrival at Poketown.

In half an hour Nelson Haley was back with the operator and agent. The
gardener at Colonel Van Dyne's knew the man personally. The story in the
newspaper, and an explanation of who Janice was, did the rest.

"There isn't any better day than Christmas, I reckon," said the
telegraph operator, when he shook hands with the girl and she tried to
thank him in advance for the trouble he was taking on her behalf, "to do
a helpful deed. And I want to help you, Miss Day, if I can. Write your
messages and I will put them through as rapidly as possible. I shall
have plenty of time to go home for dinner between the sending of your
telegrams, and the receiving