“It’s only seven-five now,” said the officer, suspiciously.
“Well, it’s the seven-ten I want, then,” said Harvey, hastily.
“I guess I’ll hold you here and see if anybody comes chasin’ up after you. Not a word, now. Close your trap.”
As no one came up to accuse the prisoner of murder, theft, or intoxication, the intelligent policeman released him at the expiration of fifteen minutes. A crowd had collected despite the cold. Harvey was always to remember that crowd of curious people; he never ceased wondering where they came from and why they were content to stand there shivering in the zero weather when there were stoves and steam 146 radiators everywhere to be found. To add to his humiliation at least a dozen men and boys, not satisfied with the free show as far as it had gone, pursued him to the very gates in the concourse.
“Darned loafers!” said Harvey, hotly, but under his breath, as he showed his ticket and his teeth at the same time. Then he rushed for the last coach and swung on as it moved out.
Now, if I were inclined to be facetious or untruthful I might easily add to his troubles by saying that he got the wrong train, or something of the sort, but it is not my purpose to be harder on him than I have to be.
It was the right train, and, better still, Annie and Phoebe were in the very last seat of the very last coach. With a vast sigh he dropped into a vacant seat ahead of them and began fanning himself with his hat, to the utter amazement of onlookers, who had been disturbed by his turbulent entrance.
The newspaper Annie was reading fell from her hands.
“My goodness, sir! Where did you come from?” she managed to inquire.
“I’ve been—dining—at—Sherry’s,” he 147 wheezed. “Annie, will you look and see if my ears are frozen?”