usband and baby to go back to her home in the South.

"What right has that Celia got to any money that comes out of the West
she hated so, out of this wind-blown place she wouldn't live in? None
at all. No more right than I have. Leaving Seth out here on the plains
all by himself, grievin' for her, breakin' his heart for her, nearly
losin' his mind with grief about her.

"The money's Cyclona's. She worked for it, never thinkin' of the
reward. She took care of the child and looked after Seth. She deserves
all the good that can come to her, that girl does."

"She does," assented the Professor.

"Hugh Walsingham's in a good fix, too," continued the Post Mistress,
"sold his claim for a whole lot of money. Able now, he is, to help his
poor relations back there in England, who sent him to the plains to
get rid of him. Funny how things turn out sometimes."

"Cyclona coming out of Nowhere, and he packed off out of England, both
outcasts, both rich now and ready to live happy ever after, if Cyclona
would only get rid of this fool notion of hers that she's only holdin'
the riches in trust for Celia and Seth.

"Have you heard the news? It's this: You know Nancy Lewis, the
dish-washer in the restaurant before the Boom, the girl who happened
to save her earnings and buy a bit of land that turned into a gold
nugget? Well, a millionaire who made his money here, fell in love with
her. She accepted him, but he made a slight mistake. He failed to keep
an engagement with her one night and sent a waiter with a note. She
got huffy and went off and married the waiter.

"We can't rise all at once from our station in life, can we? Like as
not, when we get into our new house and put on style ourselves with
our drags and our dogs, I'll be sortin' out letters in my dreams and
handin' them through a dream window to the people. This girl is a born
dish-washer. She clung to her station. Her children may rise from the
position of dish-washers, if they have enough money and education, but
not she."

"Wait a minute. Here's a postcard I haven't read yet. It looks like
it's been through a cyclone. Land sakes alive! Guess who it's from!"

"Can't," said the Professor, beginning to be hungry.

The Post Mistress turned the card over and over.

"It's from Jonathan, Cyclona's father," she chuckled. "Of all the
people in the world! It is post-marked Texas."

"So that's where they blew to! It's to Cyclona, but everybody will be
dying to know what i