“No, sir.”
“Perhaps he hasn’t got it with him. Perhaps he’s spent it.”
“I don’t think so. You see——”
“But I don’t see,” said the man, with a smile. “I want to, though. Starting at the beginning, now——” He doubled his long legs up again, clasped his hands around them and observed Joe expectantly and encouragingly. Joe hesitated, smiled, and told his story. During the recital the gray-blue eyes watched him intently and their owner maintained absolute silence. There was but one interruption, and that was when the conductor came in. Joe reached for his money, but the man gently pushed his hand away from his pocket.
“Pardon me,” he said gently, “but it’s my party.” He took out a very stunning gold-trimmed pocket-book, pulled a five-dollar note from it and handed it to the conductor.
“Where to?” asked the latter. Joe’s new acquaintance questioned silently.
“Toledo, I guess,” said Joe. “Do we stop before we get there?”
The conductor shook his head, made out the check, returned the change and took his departure.
“I’m much obliged,” said Joe, “but I didn’t mean for you to pay my fare, sir.”
“I know you didn’t. But as you’re my guest it was only right that I should. So you guessed that that punch was coming, did you?”