Elithe had kept up bravely while the necessity lasted, but when her mother faded from her sight and she could no longer see the handkerchief Artie had tied to a stick and was waving after her, she turned her face to the window and sobbed bitterly. Mr. Pennington, who sat behind her, paid no attention to her until the sound of her sobbing ceased, and he knew she was growing calm. Then he took the vacant seat beside her and began to speak of the scenery and to point out whatever he thought would please her. Elithe had never been in Helena since she was a child, consequently everything upon the road was novel, and she soon became interested in the country through which she was passing and the people in the car. These Mr. Pennington was studying closely, managing to learn how far they were going, and trying to single out some one with whom Elithe would be safe from any annoyance. An old couple, whose destination was Chicago, was his choice. They were plain, homely people, with kindness written on every lineament of their honest faces. To these he introduced himself, telling them of Elithe, who she was, where she was going, and asking if they would look after her. Instantly the woman’s heart opened to the young girl, who, she told Mr. Pennington, was much like her granddaughter, and should be her special care. They were now very near Helena, where they stopped for a few minutes, and where Mr. Pennington was to leave. Two or three times he had made up his mind to go on and changed it as often. “What use to put my head in the lion’s mouth and lose any chance I may possibly have in the future? Better wait till I am at least half a man, if that time ever comes,” he thought. Taking Elithe’s hands in his, he said: “I was a beast the first time you saw me at the mines, and if I am anything better now, you have helped to make me so. I don’t want you to forget me, and as a means of keeping me in your mind take this little souvenir.” He slipped the paper box into her hand, hesitated a moment, as if there were more he would say, then turned quickly and left the car just as it began to move away. It was growing dark, and Elithe could only faintly discern the outline of his figure as he stood with his hat off watching the train, which was bearing away the only human being who had any power to sway him for good. “I’ll go to the devil now, sure,” he thought, as he seated himself in the ‘bus which was to take him to the town. The old lady, who had witnessed the parting, looked for some tears from Elithe. Seeing none, she concluded she must be feeling too badly to cry, and, with a view to comfort her, took the seat Mr. Pennington had vacated. “I know how you feel,” she began. “When I was young and my man went away for a week I thought the sun would never shine again until he got back. That’s before I was married, and we was courtin’.” Elithe looked at her so astonished that the woman, whose name was Baker, said: “He was your beau, wasn’t he?”