," the Professor politely reminded her.

"They do say," remembered the Post Mistress, "that the Indians tell
that yarn, that a cyclone never came to Seth's ranch. It may be a fool
notion and it may not.... Look at him," leaning forward and gazing out
the window. "See how gaunt and haggard and wistful he looks. I don't
believe he gets enough to eat. There ain't a sadder sight on these
prairies than Seth Lawson. How many months has she been away from him
now? May, June, July, August, September, November," counting on her
fingers. "Seven months and one little letter from her to say she got
home safe. A dozen from him to her. More. You could almost see the
love and sadness through the envelope. And none from her in answer.

"Look at him now. Walkin' up and down, up and down, to pass away the
time till the train comes. Waitin' for a letter. It won't come. It
never will come. And him waitin' and waitin'. He'd as well wait for
the dead to come to life or for that wife of his to leave her Kentucky
home she's so much fonder of than she is of him or the baby or
anything else in the world, to come back to him. What sort of woman
can she be anyway to leave a little nursing baby?"

"Some cats leave their kittens before their eyes are open," the
Professor said.

"But a woman isn't a cat," objected the Post Mistress. "At least she
oughtn't to be. Do you know I've always said the worst woman was too
good for the best man, but that woman has made me change my mind.
She's gone for good. She don't have to stand the wind any longer or
the sleet or the rain. She's gone for good. Then why couldn't she
write him a little letter to keep the heart warm in him. What harm
would that do her. How much time would it take?

"It don't seem so bad somehow for a woman to have the heartache. She's
used to it, mostly. Some women ain't happy unless they do have it.
Heartaches and tears make up their lives, they furnish excitement. But
a man is different. You see a man holding a baby in long clothes. It's
awkward, ain't it? Somehow it don't seem natural. If you have got any
sort of mother's heart in your bosom, you want to go and take it out
of his arms and cuddle it.

"It's the same with a man with the heartache. You want to go and take
it away from him, even if you have to keep it yourself. It don't seem
right for him to have it no more than it seems right for him to have
to take care of a child.

"That man's got both. The little baby and the hear