A thin sallow face, on the forehead of which a mop of ginger-colored hair lay listlessly, was pressed against the bars. "Thanks," said the ticket agent. "I get asked the same old questions so often, one like yours sort of breaks the monotony. Sorry I can't help you. She's a woman, and the Lord only knows why women cry. And sometimes I reckon even He must be a little puzzled. Now, my wife--" "I think I'll ask her," confided Mr. Magee in a hoarse whisper. "Oh, I wouldn't," advised the man behind the bars. "It's best to let 'em alone. They stop quicker if they ain't noticed." "But she's in trouble," argued Billy Magee. "And so'll you be, most likely," responded the cynic, "if you interfere. No, siree! Take my advice. Shoot old Asquewan's rapids in a barrel if you want to, but keep away from crying women." The heedless Billy Magee, however, was already moving across the unscrubbed floor with chivalrous intention. The girl's trim shoulders no longer heaved so unhappily. Mr. Magee, approaching, thought himself again in the college yard at dusk, with the great elms sighing overhead, and the fresh young voices of the glee club ringing out from the steps of a century-old building. What were the words they sang so many times? "Weep no more, my lady, Oh! weep no more to-day." He regretted that he could not make use of them. They had always seemed to him so sad and beautiful. But troubadours, he knew, went out of fashion long before railway stations came in. So his remark to the young woman was not at all melodious: "Can I do anything?" A portion of the handkerchief was removed, and an eye which, Mr. Magee noted, was of an admirable blue, peeped out at him. To the gaze of even a solitary eye, Mr. Magee's aspect was decidedly pleasing. Young Williams, who posed at the club as a wit, had once said that Billy Magee came as near to being a magazine artist's idea of the proper hero of a story as any man could, and at the same time retain the respect and affection of his fellows. Mr. Magee thought he read approval in the lone eye of blue. When the lady spoke, however, he hastily revised his opinion. "Yes," she said, "you can do something. You can go away--far, far away." Mr. Magee stiffened. Thus chivalry fared in Upper Asquewan Falls in the year 1911. "I beg your pardon," he remarked. "You seemed to be in trouble, and I thought I might possibly be of some assistance." The girl removed the entire handkerchief. The other eye proved to be the same admirable blue--a blue half-way between the shade of her corduroy suit and that of the jacky's costume in the "See the World--Join the Navy" poster that served as background to her woe. "I don't mean to be rude," she explained more gently, "but--I'm crying, you see, and a girl simply can't look attractive when she cries."