"You shall have it, Van," smiled Mrs. Fairbanks, trying to momentarily put aside her troubles, "and half a mince pie, as well."
"Home-made, too?" interrogated Van, in a famished way.
"Only to-day."
"M-m-m!" mumbled Van ravenously. "I'm homesick for one of your rare, square meals. Hustle, Ralph--lead the way to the royal banquet!"
[CHAPTER XVII--A MIDNIGHT VISITOR]
Ralph was a month old at switch-tower service.
Looking back over thirty days, it seemed more than four weeks, so many varied and important incidents in his career had been crowded into that space of time.
It was a wild, stormy night. Sleet and wind were battering the switch tower windows. Although there was a chill in the air, the lightning was vivid and the thunder roll incessant.
The clock showed even midnight. Ralph for over a week had been on night duty solely. Doc Bortree was laid up with a fever, and Ralph and Jack Knight had been running the place on two shifts.
Since the night of her disappearance, neither Ralph nor his anxious mother had learned a thing as to the fate or whereabouts of Mrs. Davis.