When the train pulled into the long depot and stopped, the Conductor took the baby boy on one arm and a little girl on the other.
A porter carried the big lunch-basket, and the little other mother led a toddler on each side, dodging the hurrying passengers.
Evidently I was the only spectator of the play.
“Will she be there—will she be there?” I asked myself nervously.
She was there, all right, there at the gate. The Conductor was seemingly as gratified as I. He turned his charges over to the old woman, who was weeping for joy, and hugging the children between bursts of lavish, loving Deutsch.
I climbed into a Parmelee bus and said, “Auditorium Annex, please.”
And as I sat there in the bus, while they were packing the grips on top, the Conductor passed by, carrying a tin box in one hand and his train cap in the other.
I saw an Elk’s tooth on his watch-chain.
I called to him, “I saw you help the babies—good boy!”