and get mixed up in any sensational nonsense
and have your picture stuck in the Sunday paper, do you?"

The Youngish Girl's manner stiffened a little. "Do I look like a
person who gets mixed up in sensational nonsense?" she demanded rather
sternly.

"N-o-o," acknowledged the Traveling Salesman conscientiously. "N-o-o;
but then there's never any telling what you calm, quiet-looking,
still-waters sort of people will go ahead and do--once you get
started." Anxiously he took out his watch, and then began hurriedly to
pack his samples back into his case. "It's only twenty-five minutes
more," he argued earnestly. "Oh, I say now, don't you go off and do
anything foolish! My wife will be down at the station to meet me.
You'd like my wife. You'd like her fine!--Oh, I say now, you come
home with us for Sunday, and think things over a bit."

As delightedly as when the Traveling Salesman had asked her how she
fixed her hair, the Youngish Girl's hectic nervousness broke into
genuine laughter. "Yes," she teased, "I can see just how pleased your
wife would be to have you bring home a perfectly strange lady for
Sunday!"

"My wife is only a kid," said the Traveling Salesman gravely, "but she
likes what I like--all right--and she'd give you the shrewdest,
eagerest little 'helping hand' that you ever got in your life--if you'd
only give her a chance to help you out--with whatever your trouble
is."

"But I haven't any 'trouble,'" persisted the Youngish Girl with brisk
cheerfulness. "Why, I haven't any trouble at all! Why, I don't know
but what I'd just as soon tell you all about it. Maybe I really ought
to tell somebody about it. Maybe--anyway, it's a good deal easier to
tell a stranger than a friend. Maybe it would really do me good to
hear how it sounds out loud. You see, I've never done anything but
whisper it--just to myself--before. Do you remember the wreck on the
Canadian Pacific Road last year? Do you? Well--I was in it!"

"Gee!" said the Traveling Salesman. "'Twas up on just the edge of
Canada, wasn't it? And three of the passenger coaches went off the
track? And the sleeper went clear over the bridge? And fell into an
awful gully? And caught fire besides?"

"Yes," said the Youngish Girl. "I was in the sleeper."

Even without seeming to look at her at all, the Traveling Salesman
could see quite distinctly that the Youngish Girl's knees were fairly
knocking together and that the flesh around her mouth was suddenly
gray