The post office in a little country town. The postmistress, a widow, has barely enough income to keep the little house together and her curly headed child is ill. The poor woman is in great distress because she cannot leave her duties to go get the doctor and the child needs immediate medical care. Finally the mail carrier volunteers to go, but upon reaching the doctor’s office he is given a note which says the doctor will not come until his former bill is settled. In despair, the unhappy woman is driven to extremes and urged by the love of her only comfort, her child, she takes enough money from the post office funds to pay the stony hearted old physician. By dint of great economy, she thinks, she will pay it back when the child is well. Cruel fate seems to be against her, however, for scarcely has she sent the money when a telegram arrives announcing the fact that the government postal inspector will arrive that day to audit her accounts. Shortly after the inspector arrives and the postmistress, lacking the courage to confess runs up to sit by her sick child, while the inspector seats himself before the open books to begin his figuring which is bound to end in the discovery of her theft. Figure by figure, he checks over the accounts until at last he finds the discrepancy. He goes over them again and again, hut the shortage is there and cannot be overlooked. At first he is indignant, but when he entered the office he heard the butcher claiming his due, the baker refusing to deliver bread, and now the sound of the little child’s cough reaches him and it sets him thinking. Everything points to dire distress and so, with the knowledge that he was doing a good act, the kindly man makes up the difference from his own pocket. Imagine the joy of the postmistress when he departs, declaring that he has found no error in the accounts.