woman with a large variety of bundles and two small children craved to alight. Pop picked up three of the larger of the bundles and, ambling to the rear platform, stepped off upon the cobbles. He stood to one side awaiting the arrival of his passengers. Pop gallantly helped the woman down, then lifted off the children.
"Nice morning, Mrs. Johnson," he offered.
"Yes, 'tis," she said. "Thank you, Pop. It's a relief to ride with you after the stuffiness and rowdies in the subway."
"Thank you, Mrs. Johnson," Pop replied. "It's a pleasure to transport you."
He got back on the car again, walked to his position on the front platform and said, "Gid ap." The horse and the horse car plodded on again. Mrs. Johnson and her brood had been his only passengers and the car was now empty.
A block further along, the line came to an abrupt end. The track curved in toward the sidewalk, crossed it and entered a small wooden one-story building, the car barn. Pop drove the old mare into the shadow of the high roof and stopped. As he did so a pretty girl of eighteen or nineteen, with black hair, rosy cheeks and dancing eyes, stepped forward, a lunch basket under her arm. Pop leaned over from the platform to kiss her uplifted lips. The effort caused him to make an involuntary grimace and clutch his old back.
"Your rheumatism bothering you again, granddad?" asked the girl anxiously.
"Yes, it is, Jane," Pop Dillon replied. "I think
