side with fine artistry by the train's jolting. He arrogantly demanded tickets from passengers supposedly loth to relinquish these. And in his wake went the official most envied by all the others. With a horse's nose-bag upon his arm my namesake chanted in pleading tones above the din, "Peanuts—freshly buttered popcorn Culver's celebrated double-X cough drops, cool and refreshing!"
But the tragic eminence of the game was occupied by my woman child. Perched in the middle of the high seat, her short legs impotently projecting into space, she was the only passenger on this train—and she for whose sole behoof the ponderous machinery was operated, in whose exclusive service this crew of trained hirelings toiled—she sat aloft indignant, with tear-wet face, her soul revolted by the ignominy of it.
I knew the truth in a glance. There had been clamors for the positions of honor, and she, from weakness of sex, had been overborne. She whose heart cried out for the distinction of train-boy, conductor, engineer, brakeman, or fireman, in the order named, had been forced into the only degrading post in the game—a mere passenger without voice or office in those delicate feats of administration. And she suffered—suffered with a pathetic loyalty, for she knew as well as they that some one had to be the passenger.
I held an accusing eye upon my namesake and the train came to a sudden halt, much embarrassed, though
