"My father owned a store in Malden, once," he stammered, just a trifle wistfully, "but it burnt down, and there wasn't any insurance. We always were a powerfully unlucky family. Nothing much ever came our way!" Even as he spoke, a toddling youngster from an overcrowded seat at the front end of the car came adventuring along the aisle after the swaying, clutching manner of tired, fretty children on trains. Hesitating a moment, she stared up utterly unsmilingly into the Salesman's beaming face, ignored the Youngish Girl's inviting hand, and with a sudden little chuckling sigh of contentment, climbed up clumsily into the empty place beside the Young Electrician, rummaged bustlingly around with its hands and feet for an instant, in a petulant effort to make a comfortable nest for itself, and then snuggled down at last, lolling half-way across the Young Electrician's perfectly strange knees, and drowsed off to sleep with all the delicious, friendly, unconcerned sang-froid of a tired puppy. Almost unconsciously the Young Electrician reached out and unfastened the choky collar of the heavy, sweltering little overcoat; yet not a glance from his face had either lured or caressed the strange child for a single second. Just for a moment, then, his smiling eyes reassured the jaded, jabbering French-Canadian mother, who turned round with craning neck from the front of the car. "She's all right here. Let her alone!" he signaled gesticulatingly from child to mother. Then, turning to the Traveling Salesman, he mused reminiscently: "Talking's--all--right. But where in creation do you get the time to _think_? Got any kids?" he asked abruptly. "N-o," said the Traveling Salesman. "My wife, I guess, is kid enough for me." Around the Young Electrician's eyes the whimsical smile-wrinkles deepened with amazing vividness. "Huh!" he said. "I've got six." "Gee!" chuckled the Salesman. "Boys?" The Young Electrician's eyebrows lifted in astonishment. "Sure they're boys!" he said. "Why, of course!" The Traveling Salesman looked out far away through the window and whistled a long, breathy whistle. "How in the deuce are you ever going to take care of 'em?" he asked. Then his face sobered suddenly. "There was only two of us fellows at home--just Daniel and me--and even so--there weren't ever quite enough of anything to go all the way round." For just an instant the Youngish Girl gazed a bit skeptically at the Traveling Salesman's general rotund air of prosperity. "You don't look--exactly like a man who's never had enough," she said smilingly.