al--and
drive--like the devil!"

As the door clicked behind her her eye caught the jumping indicator,
and she smiled a grim smile. "Faith, in two-shilling jumps like that
I'll be bankrupt afore I've my hand on the tails of that coat." And
with a tired little sigh she leaned back in the corner, closed her
eyes, and relaxed her grip on mind and will and body.

A series of jerks and a final stop shook her into a thinking, acting
consciousness again; she was out of the taxi in a twinkling--with the
man paid and her eyes on the back of a Balmacaan coat and plush hat
disappearing through a doorway. She could not follow it as fast as
she had reckoned. She balanced corners with a stout, indeterminate
old gentleman who blocked her way and insisted on wavering in her
direction each time she tried to dodge him. In her haste to make up
for those precious lost seconds she upset a pair of twins belonging
to an already overburdened mother. These she righted and went dashing
on her way. Groups waylaid her; people with time to kill sauntered
in front of her; wandering, indecisive people tried to stop her for
information; and she reached the gate just as it was closing. Through
it she could see--down a discouraging length of platform--a
Balmacaaned figure disappearing into a car.

"Too late, lady; train's leaving."

It was well for Patsy that she was ignorant of the law governing
closing gates and departing trains, for the foolish and the ignorant
can sometimes achieve the impossible. She confronted the guard with a
look of unconquerable determination. "No, 'tisn't; the train guard is
still on the platform. You've got to let me through."

She emphasized the importance of it with two tight fists placed not
overgently in the center of the guard's rotundity, and accompanied by
a shove. In some miraculous fashion this accomplished it. The gate
clanged at Patsy's back instead of in her face, as she had expected.
A bell rang, a whistle tooted, and Patsy's feet clattered like mad
down the platform.

A good-natured brakeman picked her up and lifted her to the rear
platform of the last car as it drew out. That saved the day for
Patsy, for her strength and breath had gone past summoning.

"Thank you," she said, feebly, with a vagabond glove held out in
proffered fellowship. "That's the kindest thing any one has done for
me since I came over."

"Are ye--"

"Irish--same as yourself."

"How did ye know?"

"Sure, who but an Irishman wo