Leaving his seat, Jock approached the troubled passenger and said, “Did I understand you to say you were going to Philadelphia?”
“Hey? Yes, I’m goin’ to Philadelphy, but I don’t see how that concerns you, Bub,” and as she spoke she hurriedly felt in her pocket as if she expected the stranger who had dared to address her was one of the light-fingered gentry who she had been informed infested the city and were wont to take advantage of innocent and unsuspecting strangers.
Jock’s face flushed as he heard himself addressed as “Bub,” and his confusion was increased as he saw an expression of amusement creep over the faces of his companions; but he was too polite to heed now, and was determined to assist the old lady in what was her evident confusion and mistake.
“All I wanted to say, madam,” he continued, again speaking to the troubled woman, “was that I fear you have made a mistake. If you wanted to go to Philadelphia you ought to have gone on the Pennsylvania road, not on the New York Central; this train doesn’t go to Philadelphia.”
“Hey? What’s that ye say?” exclaimed the startled woman. “Got the wrong keers, have I? Here you, Mr. Porter,” she shouted, standing with difficulty and shaking a huge cotton umbrella at that officer. “Come here, come here!” she called in increasing excitement.
As the porter hastened toward her, the eyes of all in the car were turned upon her. Some of the passengers were evidently amused, and some were sympathizing with her in her trouble.
“What is it, madam, what is it?” inquired the colored man, politely.
“This boy says this isn’t the train for Philadelphy,” she exclaimed wrathfully. “What d’ye put me on this keer for, I’d like to know?” She was grasping her pocket with one hand and waving her cotton umbrella frantically in her excitement with the other. “Ye jest meant to rob me!” she continued. “I know ye. Ye knew I had six dollars and seventeen cents in my pocket. Ye shan’t get it, that’s what ye shan’t!”
“But, madam, this train does go to Philadelphia.”