“You’ve heard from Joe!  Well, if he was my husband he’d have heard from me long ago!” she said.

And it occurred to Mr. Shrimplin that his wife was wonderfully consistent in her inconsistencies.

“Well, and what have you got against Joe?” demanded Mrs. Montgomery with ready anger.

“She ain’t got nothing new, Nellie!” said Mr. Shrimplin, desirous of preserving the peace.

“Well, she’s mighty quick to misjudge him!  Look!” and she drew from the envelope she held in her hand a dirty greenback.  “He’s sent me twenty dollars—­my man has!  Does that look like he’d forgotten me or his children?” protested Nellie, in a voice of happy triumph.

“I’ll bet it’s counterfeit; I’d go slow on trying to pass it,” said Mr. Shrimplin when he had somewhat recovered from the shock of the sudden announcement.

It was plain that Nellie had never thought of any such possibility as this, for the light died out of her eyes.

“How can I find out whether it’s good or not?” she faltered.

“Let me look at it!” said Mr. Shrimplin.

Mrs. Montgomery placed the bill in his hands.  Her face was keen and pinched with anxiety as she awaited the little man’s verdict.

“It’s genu-ine all right,” he at length admitted grudgingly.

“I knew it was!” cried Nellie, her miserable suspicions put at rest.

“Well, you’d better spend it quick and get some good of it before old Joe comes back and wants the change!” advised Mr. Shrimplin.

“What does he say?” questioned Mrs. Shrimplin.

“He don’t say a word, there was nothing but the bill.”

“Well, maybe it wasn’t Joe sent it after all!” said the little lamplighter.

“The writing on the envelope’s his, I’d know it anywhere.  I guess he couldn’t trust himself to write; but he’ll come back, my man will!  Maybe he’s on his way now!” exclaimed Nellie.

“Ain’t there no postmark?” asked Mrs. Shrimplin.

“Why, I never thought to look!”

But Nellie’s face fell when she did look.

“It was mailed at Denver!” she said, in an awe-struck voice.

Her man seemed at the very ends of the earth, and his return became a doubtful thing.

“Well, I wouldn’t talk about this to the police or anybody; they ain’t been able to find Joe, and I wouldn’t be the one to tell them where he’s at!” advised Mr. Shrimplin.

“They’ve stopped coming to the house,” said Nellie.

But she looked inquiringly at Mr. Shrimplin.  Where the police were concerned she had faith in his masculine understanding; Joe had always seemed to know a great deal about the police, she remembered.

“I reckon old Joe had his own reasons for skipping out, and they must have looked good to him.  No, I can’t see that you are bound to help the police; the police ain’t helped you.”  And Mr. Shrimplin returned to the scrutiny of the bill in his hand.