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“Then he sat and thought as if his mind wint to his own business, and I wint on wit’ me baking. Says he to me after a while, ‘We ‘re going to build a branch road across country to connect with the great mountain-roads,’ says he; ‘the junction ‘s going to be right here; ‘t will give you a big market for your buns. There ‘ll be a lunch-counter in the new station; do you think you could run it?’ says he, spaking very sober.

“‘I ‘d do my best, sir, annyway,’ says I. ‘I ‘d look out for the best of help. Do you know Patrick Quin, sir, that was hurt on the Road and gets a pinsion, sir?’

“‘I do,’ says he. ‘One of the best men that ever worked for this company,’ says he.

“‘He ‘s me mother’s own brother, then, an’ he ‘ll stand by me,’ says I; and he asked me me name and wrote it down in a book he got out of the pocket of him. ‘You shall have the place if you want it,’ says he; ‘I won’t forget,’ and off he wint as quiet as he came.”

“Tell me who was it?” said Johnny O’Callahan, listening eagerly.

“Mr. Ryan come tumbling in the next minute, spattered with water from the tank. ‘Well, then,’ says he, ‘is your fine company gone?’

“‘He is,’ says I. ‘I don’t know is it some superintendent? He ‘s a nice man, Mr. Ryan, whoiver he is,’ says I.

“”T is the Gineral Manager of the Road,’ says he; ‘that’s who he is, sure!’

“My apron was all flour, and I was in a great rage wit’ so much to do, but I did the best I could for him. I ‘d do the same for anny one so hungry,” concluded Nora modestly.

“Ain’t you got the Queen’s luck!” exclaimed Johnny admiringly. “Your fortune ‘s made, me dear. I ‘ll have to come off the road to help you.”

“Oh, two good trades ‘ll be better than one!” answered Nora gayly, “and the big station nor the branch road are n’t building yet.”

“What a fine little head you ‘ve got,” said Johnny, as they reached the house where the Ryans lived, and the train was whistling that he meant to take back to town. “Good-night, annyway, Nora; nobody ‘d know from the size of your head there could be so much inside in it!”

“I’m lucky, too,” announced Nora serenely. “No, I won’t give you me word till the ind of the month. You may be seeing another gerrl before that, and calling me the red-headed sparrow. No, I ‘ll wait a good while, and see if the two of us can’t do better. Come, run away, Johnny. I ‘ll drop asleep in the road; I ‘m up since four o’clock making me cakes for plinty b’ys like you.”

The Ryans were all abed and asleep, but there was a lamp burning in the kitchen. Nora blew it out as she stole into her hot little room. She had waited, talking eagerly with Johnny, until they saw the headlight of the express like a star, far down the long line of double track.

IV.

The summer was not ended before all the railroad men knew about Johnny O’Callahan’s wedding and all his good fortune. They boarded at the Ryans’ at first, but late in the evenings Johnny and his wife were at work, building as if they were birds. First, there was a shed with a broad counter for the cakes, and a table or two, and the boys did not fail to notice that Nora had a good sisterly work-basket ready, and was quick to see that a useful button was off or a stitch needed. The next fortnight saw a room added to this, where Nora had her own stove, and cooking went on steadily. Then there was another room with white muslin curtains at the windows, and scarlet-runner beans made haste to twine themselves to a line of strings for shade. Johnny would unload a few feet of clean pine boards from the freight train, and within a day or two they seemed to be turned into a wing of the small castle by some easy magic. The boys used to lay wagers and keep watch, and there was a cheer out of the engine-cab and all along the platforms one day when a tidy sty first appeared and a neat pig poked his nose through the fence of it. The buns and biscuits grew famous; customers sent for them from the towns up and down the long railroad line, and the story of thrifty, kind-hearted little Nora and her steady young husband was known to a surprising number of persons. When the branch road was begun, Nora and Johnny took a few of their particular friends to board, and business was further increased. On Sunday they always went into town to mass and visited their uncles and aunts and Johnny’s sister. Nora never said that she was tired, and almost never was cross. She counted her money every Saturday night, and took it to Uncle Patsy to put into the bank. She had long talks about her mother with Uncle Patsy, and he always wrote home for her when she had no time. Many a pound went across the sea in the letters, and so another summer came; and one morning when Johnny’s train stopped, Nora stood at the door of the little house and held a baby in her arms for all the boys to see. She was white as a ghost and as happy as a queen. “I ‘ll be making the buns again pretty soon,” she cried cheerfully. “Have courage, boys; ‘t won’t be long first; this one ‘ll be selling them for me on the Flying Aigle, don’t you forget it!” And there was a great ringing of the engine-bell a moment after, when the train started.