"I see," interrupted the obliging young man; "want a seat—here it is—a great bargain—cars full—quick, or you'll lose it."
"But, sir," said the old lady, with nervous trepidation, "I—I—wasn't going to Boston."
"The deuce you weren't. Well, well, well, why couldn't you say so? Hullo! Conductor! Stop the cars!"
"Can't do it," replied the conductor. "This train don't stop short of Woburn watering station."
"Woburn watering station!" whimpered the old woman, wringing her hands. "O, what shall I do?"
"Sit still; take it easy—no use crying for spilt milk; what can't be cured must be endured. I'll look out sharp; you might have saved yourself all this trouble."
Away went the cars, racketting and oscillating, while the obliging young man was looking round for another recipient of his good services.
"Ha!" he muttered to himself. "There's a poor young fellow quite alone. Lovesick, perhaps; pale cheek—sunken eye—never told his love; but let—Shakspeare—I'm his man! Must look out for the old woman. Here we are, ma'am, fifteen miles to Lowell—out with you—look out for the cars on the back track. Good by—pleasant trip!"
Ding dong, went the bell again.
"Hullo! here's her bundle! Catch, there—heads! All right—get on, driver!"