slept that night, and
when morning broke, clear and beautiful, with glad hearts they rushed up
into the open air.

The second class was forward. Three of the passengers had been killed
and quite a number injured.

If Signe had not been so poor, and had not refused help from Hr.
Bogstad, she would have taken second class passage. But now, thank God
for being poor and--independent!

In another week they landed at New York, and each went her own way.
Signe Dahl took the first train for Chicago.

VII.

"The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away."--_Job 1:22_.

The news startled the young city of Willowby from the Honorable Mayor to
the newest comer in the place. The railroad company had found a shorter
route to its northern main line, and it had been decided to remove, or,
at least, to abandon for a time, the road running through the valley.
The short cut would save fifty miles of roadbed and avoid some heavy
grades, but it would leave the town of Willowby twenty-five miles from
the railroad. Everybody said it would be a death-blow to the place.
Petitions and propositions from the citizens to the railroad company
availed nothing.

The most diresome predictions came true. After the change, the life of
the young town seemed to wither away. Its business almost ceased. The
speculator whose tenement houses were without roof, hurriedly closed
them in, and so let them stand. Safer is the farmer, in such times. His
fields will still yield the same, let stocks and values in real estate
rise and fall as they will.

Alderman Rupert Ames had been attending the protracted meetings of the
city council; this, with other business, kept him away from home for a
week. This was the explanation which he gave to his mother when he at
last came home.

"Rupert," she said to him, "you must not worry so. I see you are
sick--you're as pale as death now. Is there anything the matter, my
boy?"

Rupert seated himself on the sofa, resting his face in his hands, and
looked into the fire. He was haggard and pale.

"Mother--yes, mother, something's the matter but I cannot tell you, I
cannot tell you."

The mother sank beside him. "Rupert, what is it, are you sick?"

"No, dear mother, I'm not sick--only at heart." He put his arms around
her neck and resting his head on her shoulder, began to sob.

It had been a long time since she had seen her boy shed tears.

"Mother," he sprang to his feet and forced himself to talk, "I mus