Ralph looked at his switch-tower visitor in great surprise.
"Why, Mrs. Davis," he asked, "what is the matter?"
"N--nothing," she stammered, trying to control herself, but her features were working strangely. "So your name is Fairbanks?"
"Yes, Mrs. Davis."
"Not John Fairbanks--how simple I am, though, of course not. He was an old man. Are you his son, then?"
"Yes," answered Ralph, his curiosity excited. "My name is Ralph. I am John Fairbanks' son. He is dead, you know. Were you acquainted with him?"
"Not acquainted exactly," replied the woman, in a certain repressed way. "I have heard of him, you see."
"Oh, you mean since you came to Stanley Junction?"
"No, no, a long way from here, and a long time ago. Where I used to live. I heard he was dead, and I heard you and your mother was dead, too. I did not dream that any of the Fairbanks were here now."
"Why, you amaze me!" cried Ralph. "Who could have told you that?"