ke you!"

Santa Fe steadied the old gent, Hill said, and said to him in a
kind of explaining way: "As I told you, my dear sir, in my wild
college days--before I got light on my sinful path and headed for
the ministry--I was reckoned something out of the common as a
card-player; and what the profane call luck used to be with me all
the time. Of course, since I humbly--but, I trust, helpfully--took
to being a worker in the vineyard, I have not touched those devil's
picture-books; nor should I have touched them to-night but for my
hope that a little game would help to while away your time of
tedious waiting. As for playing for money, that would have been
quite impossible had it not been for my niece's suggestion that my
winnings--in case such came to me--should be added to our meagre
parish fund. I trust that I have not done wrong in yielding to my
impulse. At least I have to sustain me the knowledge that if you, my
dear sir, are somewhat the worse, my impoverished church is much the
better for our friendly game of chance."

Hill said hearing Santa Fe Charley talking about chance in any game
where he had the dealing was so funny it was better'n going to the
circus. But the old gent took it right enough--and the Hen added on:
"Yes, Uncle Charley can get the organ he's been wanting so badly for
his church, now. And I'm sure we'll all think of how we owe its sweet
music to you every time we hear it played!"--and she edged up to him
again, so he could hold her hand. "It must make you very, very
happy, sir," she kept on, speaking kind of low and gentle, but not
coming as close as he wanted her, "to go about the world doing such
generous-hearted good deeds! I'm sure I'd like to thank you
enough--only there aren't any fit words to thank you in--for your
noble-hearted generous goodness to me!"

The old gent hauled away on her hand, Hill said, trying to get her
closer, and said back to her: "Words quite unnecessary. Old man's
heart filled with pleasure obliging such dear child. Never mind about
words. Accept old man's fatherly kiss, like daughter, for good-bye."

But he missed it that time too, Hill said--and Hill said, speaking in
his careless cuss-word way, it was pretty damn rough on him what poor
luck in fatherly kisses he seemed to have--because just then the train
conductor swung his lantern and sung out: "All aboard!"

That ended things. Before the old gent knowed what had got him, Santa
Fe and the Hen had boosted him