Hook the ‘Maid of Erin’ on the White Mail to-night. T. M.”
“Damn your skin, kid, who told you to read that?”
“The T. M. Told me to read it to you and see that you understood it, see?”
The engine had just been coupled to the White Mail, that had come in carrying green signals, when the special, running as second section of No. 1, whistled in. The President of the Vandalia boarded the “Maid of Erin,” introduced the General Manager, and they were in turn introduced to Mrs. McGuire. By this time a yard engine had dashed up out of a siding, picked up the car, and set her gently on behind the White Mail.
“What time shall we reach the river?” asked the President of the Inter-Mountain.
“At 7.50,” said the President of the Vandalia. “Possibly 7.49, but it will not be 51, Tommy, you can bet on that.”
“To-morrow night,” said McGuire, surprised but smiling. “How pokey you are!”
“To-morrow morning, if you please.”
“What, you’re not running us special? Now I don’t want you to do that.”
“No, you are going on a regular train,” said the Van man.