Entering, Paul advanced to the desk.
“Is Mr. D. L. Meacham in?” he asked, referring to the card given him by the superintendent.
“Here he is!” replied, not the clerk to whom the question was addressed, but a tall, elderly man with gray hair, clad in a rusty suit, evidently a gentleman from the rural districts.
“Are you the telegraph boy?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“I want to go down to the ferry to take the train to Philadelphia.”
“All right, sir. Is this your valise?” asked Paul, pointing to a shabby traveling bag that might, from its appearance, have been used by Noah when he was on board the ark.
“Yes, that’s mine.”
“Do you want to start now, Mr. Meacham?”
“Well, I might as well. I hain’t got nothing to keep me here. How fur is it?”