“I have told you that I didn’t even dare to hope,” she said.  “But I want to see—­I want to see.  I have tried sanatoriums and consulted specialists until it has all become a nightmare to me and I am no better—­I sometimes think I never shall be any better.”

“But,” exploded Thornton, rising from his chair, “that’s nothing to do with this—­this is rank foolishness!  Nurse, you—­”

Miss Harvey, too, had risen, and was regarding Mrs. Thornton anxiously.

“It is better to humor her than to excite her,” she said in a low voice.

Mrs. Thornton had dropped back on the couch and her face was turned away from the others, but she stretched out her hand to her husband.

“I am not asking very much, Robert, dear—­am I?” she said.  “Not very much.  Won’t you do this for me?”

Thornton bit his lips and scowled at the Flopper.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he muttered—­and moving to the side of the car pushed a bell-button viciously.  “Sam,” he snapped, as his colored man appeared, “go and tell the conductor that I want my car put off on the siding at Needley.”

“Yes, sah,” said Sam.

Thornton sat down again heavily.

“Mabbe,” announced the Flopper tactfully, “mabbe I’d better be gettin’ back to me valise—­we’re most dere, ain’t we?”

Mrs. Thornton turned toward him.

“No; please don’t go, Mr. Coogan—­it’s too hard for you to get through the train.  Sam will get your things as soon as he comes back.  Do stay right where you are until we get to Needley.”

“No; don’t think of going, Mr. Coogan,” said Thornton savagely.

The Flopper looked at Mrs. Thornton gratefully, and at Mr. Thornton thoughtfully.

“T’anks!” said the Flopper pleasantly—­and wriggled himself into a more comfortable position in his chair.

Half an hour later, the train, that stopped only on signal to discharge eastbound passengers from Portland, drew up at Needley—­and Hiram Higgins, on the platform, stared at a scene never before witnessed in the history of the town.

It was not one passenger, or two, or three, that alighted—­they streamed in a bewildering fashion from every vestibule of every car.  It is true that the majority got back into the train later, but that did not lessen the effect any on Mr. Higgins.  Mr. Higgins’ jaw dropped, and he grabbed at his chin whiskers for support.

“Merciful daylights!” he breathed heavily.  “Now what in the land’s sakes be it all about?” His eyes, following the hurrying passengers, fixed on the twisted shape of the Flopper, being helped to the platform from the private car.

“Three cheers for Coogan!” yelled some excitable passenger.

The cheers were given with a will.

“Good luck to you, Coogan!” shouted another—­and the crowd took it up in chorus:  “Good luck to you, Coogan!”