elevator at the station with a draft. It
usually took him a long time to deliver a draft in that direction,
because Hilda Munn lived out there; but this day he came back rapidly
and rushed excitedly up to the teller's box.

"Nelson!" he whispered ominously, tapping the cage door.

Evan turned around and smiled at the expression of A. P.'s face.

"What's the matter, Henty?"

Filter had foregone the temptation to make an entry, and stood
listening and watching.

"It's Penton. He's drunk again. He took the 3.30 train south."

"Was he alone?"

"Yes."

Immediately Evan went and found Mrs. Penton. She was nursing the white
poodles. They nearly went mad when a stranger entered the domain of
their mistress.

"Mrs. Penton," said the teller, "do you know where Mr. Penton is?"

She paled at once. Evan could see that she lived in dread of her
husband's habit, and was on the watch for outbreaks.

"Has anything happened, Mr. Nelson?" she asked, painfully.

"Yes. He's gone on the southbound."

"To Toronto!" she cried. "Was he intoxicated?"

"Yes."

The teller gazed on her in pity. After she had stared at him a while
her eyes saw sympathy and understanding, and she cried. He assured her
the work at the office would not be neglected, and promised to forge
Penton's name to the daily cash-statement so as to keep the matter a
secret from head office. She clutched his shoulders and sobbed against
them. His heart ached for her, and he promised to help Penton all he
could.

"Oh, Mr. Nelson," she stammered, wiping her cheeks, "if only Pen were
like--like you!"

Then she wept again. The spell over, she inquired about the trains and
found she could get to Toronto in the evening.

"I know where to find him," she said. "We lived in Toronto a year.
Mr. Nelson, you can't imagine how I have suffered through it all. When
I married Pen I knew he took an occasional glass, but I didn't dream
that he was a drunkard."

"Is it as bad as that, Mrs. Penton?"

"It is as bad as it can be." She spoke excitedly. "I have known him
to spend fifty dollars in one night, when he was only making nine
hundred dollars a year. (We got married by special influence.) It
just seems as though something draws him toward a debauch every little
while. I'm afraid this small town will be our ruination."

Evan tried to make her load lighter and, in a degree, succeeded. There
is no burden so heavy that true sympathy will not budge it