ving close to its base through a
country barren of vegetation and population. There came a sudden
jolt,--then a creaking sound as the train gradually slowed and then
stopped.

The passengers looked from the window. No station or village was in sight.
There was a moment of uneasiness. A few men got up and went to see what
the trouble was. An half-hour passed. The restlessness expressed itself in
words. Some complained loudly; some grumbled, others walked up and down
the aisle, every few moments looking at their watches, while their faces
grew more expressive of displeasure and annoyance.

The baby across the way fretted. The little boy cried aloud. The tired
mother worried over them until she herself was almost sobbing.

The half-hour lengthened into an hour. Then a trainman entered the car
with the unpleasant news that they would be delayed yet longer. The
air-brake had failed them, and they must wait until the wreck-train came
down from Westport with another car, so it might be an hour before they
would be able to proceed.

The girls, Landis and Min, left their places to walk up and down the
aisle. Landis looked infinitely bored. She turned to her companion with
deprecatory remarks about second-class traveling, where one could not have
either a lunch or dinner.

The dinner hour had passed. Some of the travellers who had a day's journey
before them had fortified themselves against hunger with a lunch.

The baby continued crying. The older child clamored loudly for something
to eat. Elizabeth crossed the aisle.

"You look tired," she said to the mother. "Will you trust your baby with
me?" She held out her arms, but the child clung closer to its mother while
its fretful cry grew louder.

"Perhaps I can persuade her to come," said Elizabeth, going to her lunch
box and returning with an orange. The bright color attracted the child at
once. Elizabeth took her in her arms and began walking up and down. The
other passengers, absorbed in their lunches or growling at their own
discomfort, paid little attention to her.

The little boy continued his pleadings for something to eat. The mother
endeavored to call his attention to other matters.

"Have you nothing for him?" asked Elizabeth.

The woman's face flushed at the question. She was a subdued, worn-out
little soul whose experience with the world had made her feel that every
one was but awaiting an excuse to find fault with her. Her manner as she
replied was more a