“’Tis only three o’clock now; you’ll have to wait until the night train, which doesn’t go up until 1.05.”
“Very well, sir; I can wait.”
“Wouldn’t you like to go to some hotel? Simmons will show you the way.”
“No, thank you, sir. One place is as good as another to me. Besides, I haven’t any money.”
“Very well,” said the agent, turning away indifferently. “Simmons will tell you when it’s time.”
All the afternoon she sat there so quiet that I thought sometimes she must be asleep, but when I looked more closely I could see every once in a while a great tear rolling down her cheek, which she would wipe away hastily with her cotton handkerchief.
The depot was crowded and all was bustle and hurry until the 9.50 train going east came due; then every passenger left except the old lady. It is very rare indeed that any one takes the night express, and almost always, after I have struck ten, the depot becomes silent and empty.
The ticket agent put on his great coat, and bidding Simmons keep his wits about him for once in his life, departed for home.
But he had no sooner gone than that functionary stretched himself out upon the table, as usual, and began to snore vociferously. Then it was I witnessed such a sight as I never had before and never expect to again.