"Do you know to whom you were speaking just now?"
"No, sir."
"That was the Chairman of the Railway Company."
"Are you sure of that, sir?" replied the conductor, trying to conceal his agitation.
"I know him."
The colour rose a little in the young man's face, but with a strong effort he controlled himself, and went on collecting his fare as usual.
Meanwhile, the lame gentleman sat quietly in his seat—none of those who were near him could unravel the expression of his face, nor tell what would be the next movement in the scene. And he—of what thought he? He had been rudely treated; he had been unkindly taunted with the infirmity which had come perhaps through no fault of his. He could revenge himself if he chose. He could tell the Directors the simple truth, and the young man would be deprived of his place at once. Should he do it?
And yet, why should he care? He knew what he was worth. He knew how he had risen by his own exertions to the position he now held. When, a little orange peddler, he stood by the street crossings, he had many a rebuff. He had outlived those days of hardship; he was respected now. Should he care for a stranger's roughness or taunt? Those who sat near him waited curiously to see the end.
Presently the conductor came back. With a steady energy he walked up to the lame gentleman's side.
"I will resign my place, sir," he said.