Peewee could not remember back to the time when he had first noted among these trucks those which bore the name. "Markyn Transfer Company" and had spelled out the name upon them as he had the names upon other wagons.
It was this familiarity of the name which had made it easy for him to read when the woman had had him write it for her. There was not necessarily, he comprehended, a connection between the name upon the trucks and the name upon the card in his pocket. He sat down under the freight shed, looking at the trucks. It did not particularly incommode him that he had not breakfasted and might not lunch. Frequently he neglected these formalities. He could not have told, either, exactly what he was waiting for, though he watched continually the faces of the Markyn drivers. He had watched faces on the streets almost since boyhood, governing his acts accordingly. Toward noon, there arrived a truck with a fat, good-natured driver. The man swung himself from his seat, and went into the freight shed. Peewee arose at once and climbed up to the driver's seat. A half hour later, the truck
