Mrs. Magraw nodded.
“But there’s no use for me to tell you that,” went on the superintendent. “You knew him better than I did. Now here’s what I’ve come to say. The road has pensioned you for life. You will receive a check every month for thirty dollars.”
“Thirty dollars!” echoed Mrs. Magraw. “Why, sir,—”
“I know it isn’t very much—”
“Very much! It’s all the difference between starvin’ an’ livin’, sir.”
“I’m glad of that. How old is your oldest boy?”
“Thirteen, sir.”
“What do you want him to be?”
“Well, sir, he seems to have a taste fer mechanics.”
“All right; there’s a job waiting for him, and for all the other boys when they’re old enough. The road wants to make life just as easy for you as it can, Mrs. Magraw; and even at that, it feels that it has done mighty little—so little that I was almost ashamed to come here to-day and tell you. It’s not in any sense intended as a recompense—don’t think it.”