replied Magee, "you know as much about that girl as I do.
She asked me to get her the money, and I did."

"But what's your place in the game?"

"A looker-on in Athens," returned Magee. "Translated, a guy who had
bumped into a cyclone and was sitting tight waiting for it to blow over.
I--I took a fancy to her, as you might put it. She wanted the money. I
got it for her."

"A pretty fairy story, my boy," the mayor commented.

"Absolutely true," smiled Magee.

"What do you think of that for an explanation, Lou," inquired Cargan,
"she asked him for the money and he gave it to her?"

Mr. Max leered.

"Say, a Broadway chorus would be pleased to meet you, Magee," he
commented.

"Don't tell any of your chorus friends about me," replied Magee. "I
might not always prove so complacent. Every man has his moments of
falling for romance. Even you probably fell once--and what a fall was
there."

"Can the romance stuff," pleaded Max. "This chilly railway station
wasn't meant for such giddy language."

Wasn't it? Mr. Magee looked around at the dingy walls, at the soiled
time-cards, at the disreputable stove. No place for romance? It was here
he had seen her first, in the dusk, weeping bitterly over the seemingly
hopeless task in which he was destined to serve her. No place for
romance--and here had begun his life's romance. The blue blithe sailor
still stood at attention in the "See the World" poster. Magee winked at
him. He knew about it all, he knew, he knew--he knew how alluring she
had looked in the blue corduroy suit, the bit of cambric pressed
agonizingly to her face. Verily, even the sailor of the posters saw the
world and all its glories.

The agent leaned his face against the bars.

"Your train," he called, "is crossing the Main Street trestle."

They filed out upon the platform, Mr. Magee carrying Mrs. Norton's
luggage amid her effusive thanks. On the platform waited a stranger
equipped for travel. It was Mr. Max who made the great discovery.

"By the Lord Harry," he cried, "it's the Hermit of Baldpate Mountain."

And so it was, his beard gone, his hair clumsily hacked, his body garbed
in the height of an old and ludicrous fashion, his face set bravely
toward the cities once more.

"Yes," he said, "I walked the floor, thinking it all over. I knew it
would happen, and it has. The winters are hard, and the sight of you--it
was too much. The excitement, the talk--it did for me, did for my oath.
So I'm going b