Joy is the best of all medicines, and Allan’s improvement was rapid. At the end of a week he could spend hours lying back in a padded chair, and Jack was finally prevailed upon to go regularly to work and leave the care of the invalid to his wife. It was on the platform before the station that the superintendent stopped him one evening, as he was hurrying home from work. “How are things out on the line?” he asked. “All right, sir.” “Going to win the track prize again this spring?” “No, sir,” and Jack grew suddenly grave. “One of my best men is laid up, y’ know.” “Ah, yes,” and the superintendent nodded. “How is the boy getting along, Jack?” “He’ll pull through,” said the other, slowly, “but he had a mighty close call. If th’ bullet hadn’t struck a rib an’ glanced off, he’d ’a’ been done fer. I went down t’ look at th’ place he got acrost th’ ravine, an’ I don’t see how he done it.” “Neither do I,” agreed the superintendent. “I took a look at it, too.” “Well,” continued Jack, “th’ fever’s over now, an’ he’s gittin’ his strength back.” “And his appetite, too, I dare say.” “Yes,” assented Jack, with a quick smile of enjoyment, “an’ his appetite, too. Why, it does us more good t’ see him eat than to eat ourselves.” “I don’t doubt it; but you mustn’t spoil the boy with too much coddling.” “Spoil him!” retorted Jack. “Not fer a minute! Why, y’ couldn’t spoil him, sir. He’s pure gold, all th’ way through.” The superintendent started on, stopped for an instant to chew his moustache, then turned back. “Jack!” he called. “Yes, sir,” and the foreman stopped. “You were saying,” began the superintendent, a little awkwardly, “that the boy’s eating again. He ought to have some dainties, Welsh; oysters and chicken and fruit, and that sort of thing.” “We hope t’ be able t’ git ’em fer him, sir,” answered Jack, with dignity. “Well, the road won’t let you get them,” said the superintendent. “We owe him a good deal, and we’re going to pay some of it this way. I’m going to stop in over here at the store and tell Fisher to send the boy whatever he wants and send the bill in to the road. I’ll see that it’s paid. Of course, we’ll take care of the doctor and drug bills, too. Now, maybe he’d like some oranges or pineapple or something of that sort right away. Anyway, I’ll tell Fisher,” and he hurried on, as though fearing to hear what the other might say. Welsh looked after him for a moment without saying anything, then turned toward home. And Mr. Heywood, hurrying on, stopped at the grocery and gave certain directions. “And see here, Fisher,” he concluded, “you’ll send the bill to me, but that’s nobody’s business but our own. I want them to think that the road’s paying for it.”