"but more so for the poor little woman. She's worked and worked, and
saved and saved, and hoped and dreamed, until she actually believed he'd
been cured and that the sun would shine in her life again. Why, the
neighbors have been talking across the back fence about how well Mrs.
Downs was looking. My wife declared she heard her laugh the other day
clear over to our house. Half the town knew about her dream. The women
folks have been carrying work to her and then going over and helping her
do it as a sort of surprise party. And now it's all off. To-morrow will
be Christmas; and he'll be in jail, his wife in despair, and I in
disgrace. Charley Downs a thief--in jail! It'll just break her heart!"

The whistle proclaimed a stop, and the Superintendent swung out with a
lump in his throat. This was an important station, and the last one
before Loneville. Without looking to the right or left, the
Superintendent walked straight to the telegraph office and sent the
following message to the agent at the place where Downs had been
ditched:--

"Turn that fellow loose and send him to Loneville on three--all
a joke.

"W.C.V., Superintendent."

In a little while the train was rattling over the road again; and when
the engine screamed for Loneville, the Superintendent stood up and
looked at the messenger.

"What'll I tell her?" the latter asked.

"Well, he got left at Cactus sure enough, didn't he? If that doesn't
satisfy her, tell her that he may get over on No. 3."

When the messenger had turned his freight over to the driver of the
Fargo wagon, he gathered up the Christmas tree and the toys and trudged
homeward, looking like Santa Claus, so completely hidden was he by the
tree and the trinkets. As he neared the Downs' home, the door swung
open, the lamplight shone out upon him, and he saw two women smiling
from the open door. It took but one glance at the messenger's face to
show them that something was wrong, and the smiles faded. Mrs. Downs
received the shock without a murmur, leaning on her friend and leaving
the marks of her fingers on her friend's arm.

The messenger put the toys down suddenly, silently; and feeling that the
unhappy woman would be better alone, the neighbors departed, leaving her
seated by the window, peering into the night, the lamp turned very low.

The little clock on the shelf above the stove ticked off the seconds,
measured the minutes, and marked the me