to find it. And to Barney’s relief there were no gates and no gate-keepers. A board at the track-end gave a list of the stations at which the train stopped. The last of these was “Somerville.” Barney said to himself “Me fer Somerville”—and followed down the platform.
He was led to the smoking car, which was hardly more than half a car, because the forward part of it had been cut off to make a baggage room. He took the seat nearest the rear door, and watched some of the suburbanites getting squares of heavy cardboard from the baggage man to use as card-tables on their knees; they sat down in fours, here and there, to play. The Panama hat was invited to join some acquaintance at euchre, and declined; he was engaged with his newspapers and a brier pipe. A man directly in front of Barney was hailed to make the fourth in the game, and threw aside his paper to accept. Barney leaned over the back of the seat and took the paper. At that moment, the train started.
