"Well, never mind," said Latitat, laughing, "go home and tell Mrs. Q. the office won't be open till to-morrow, and that I shall depend on dining with you all to-day."
THE OBLIGING YOUNG MAN.
"Cars ready for Boston and way stations!" shouted the conductor of a railroad train, as the steamhorse, harnessed for his twenty mile trip, stood chafing, snorting, and coughing, throwing up angry puffs of mingled gray and dingy vapor from his sturdy lungs. "Cars ready for Boston and way stations!"
"O, yes!" replied a brisk young man, with a bright eye, peculiar smirk, spotted neckcloth, and gray gaiters with pearl buttons. "Cars ready for Boston and way stations. All aboard. Now's your time—quick, or you'll lose 'em. Now then, ma'am."
"But, sir," remonstrated the old lady he addressed, and whom he was urging at the steps of a first class car.
"O, never mind!" replied the brisk young man. "Know what you're going to say—too much trouble—none whatever, I assure you. Perfect stranger, true—but scriptural injunction, do as you'd be done by. In with you—ding! ding!—there's the bell—off we go."
And so in fact they did go off at forty miles an hour.
"But, sir," said the old lady, trembling violently.