"Hot box," the oily person replied, laconically. The delay was considerable to a mother going home to put her little child to bed. It seemed to this mother interminable. When at length she felt a welcome jar and lurch her patience was threadbare. She sat bolt upright, as if by so doing she were helping things along. It was an express and leaped ahead splendidly, catching up with itself. Her thoughts leaped ahead with it. No, no, he would not be in bed. Sheelah was not going to tell him, so he would insist upon waiting up. But she might find him asleep in his poor little boots! She caught her breath in half a sob, half tender laugh. Little Silly! But if an express, why this stop? They were slowing up. It was not time to get to the home station; there were no lights. Murray's mother waylaid a passing brakeman. "What is it? What is it?" "All right, all right! Don't be scairt, lady! Wreck ahead somewheres--freight-train. We got to wait till they clear the track." But the misery of waiting! He might get tired of waiting, or Sheelah might tell him his mother was not coming out to-night; he might go to bed, with his poor little faith in the Promise wrecked, like the freight on there in the dark. She could not sit still and bear the thought; it was not much easier pacing the aisle. She felt a wild inclination to get off the train and walk home. At the home station, when at last she reached it, she took a carriage. "Drive fast!" she said, peremptorily. "I'll pay you double fare." The houses they rattle past were ablaze with light down-stairs, not up-stairs where little sons would be going to bed. All the little sons had gone to bed. They stopped with a terrific lurch. It threw her on to the seat ahead. "This is not the place," she cried, sharply, after a glance without. "No'm; we're stopping fer recreation," drawled sarcastically the unseen driver. He appeared to be assisting the horse to lie down. She stumbled to the ground and demanded things. "Yer'll have to ax this here four-legged party what's doin'. _I_ didn't stop--I kep' right on goin'. He laid down on his job, that's all, marm. I'll get him up, come Chris'mas. Now then, yer ole fool!" There was no patience left in the "fare" standing there beside the plunging beast. She fumbled in her purse, found something, dropped it somewhere, and hurried away down the street. She did not walk home, because she ran. It was well the streets were quiet ones. "Has he gone to bed?" she came panting in upon drowsy Sheelah, startling that phlegmatic person out of an honest Irish dream. "Murray--Little Silly--has he gone to bed? Oh no!" for she saw him then, an inert little heap at Sheelah's feet. She gathered him up in her arms. "I won't! I won't go, Sheelah! I'm waiting. She promis--" in drowsy murmur. "She's here--she's come, Murray! Mamma's come home to put you to bed--Little Silly, open your eyes and see mamma!"