at keeps the big clock up there going,
little wheels and big, and no mix-up." Ray's hand and his pipe were
suddenly outlined against the sky. "Ever occur to you, Thee, that they
have to be on time close enough to MAKE TIME? The Dispatcher up there
must have a long head." Pleased with his similitude, Ray went back to
the lookout. Going into Denver, he had to keep a sharp watch.

Giddy came down, cheerful at the prospect of getting into port, and
singing a new topical ditty that had come up from the Santa Fe by way of
La Junta. Nobody knows who makes these songs; they seem to follow events
automatically. Mrs. Kronborg made Giddy sing the whole twelve verses of
this one, and laughed until she wiped her eyes. The story was that of
Katie Casey, head diningroom girl at Winslow, Arizona, who was unjustly
discharged by the Harvey House manager. Her suitor, the yardmaster, took
the switchmen out on a strike until she was reinstated. Freight trains
from the east and the west piled up at Winslow until the yards looked
like a log-jam. The division superintendent, who was in California, had
to wire instructions for Katie Casey's restoration before he could get
his trains running. Giddy's song told all this with much detail, both
tender and technical, and after each of the dozen verses came the
refrain:--

"Oh, who would think that Katie Casey owned the Santa Fe?
But it really looks that way,
The dispatcher's turnin' gray,
All the crews is off their pay;
She can hold the freight from Albuquerq' to Needles any day;
The division superintendent, he come home from Monterey,
Just to see if things was pleasin' Katie Ca--a--a--sey."

Thea laughed with her mother and applauded Giddy. Everything was so
kindly and comfortable; Giddy and Ray, and their hospitable little
house, and the easy-going country, and the stars. She curled up on the
seat again with that warm, sleepy feeling of the friendliness of the
world--which nobody keeps very long, and which she was to lose early and
irrevocably.

XVII

The summer flew by. Thea was glad when Ray Kennedy had a Sunday in town
and could take her driving. Out among the sand hills she could forget
the "new room" which was the scene of wearing and fruitless labor. Dr.
Archie was away from home a good deal that year. He had put all his
money into mines above Colorado Springs, and he hoped for great returns
from them.

In the fall of that year, Mr. Kron