“Yes, I heard that but for your presence of mind, and Mrs. Brock’s tablecloth, there would have been a smash-up.”
“What on earth are you talkin’ about, John Fox?” demanded his wife, curiously.
“Well, you see, Maria, the rain of last night washed away part of the railroad track, and the train would have been plunged into a gully if our young boarder here hadn’t seen the danger, and, borrowin’ a tablecloth from Mrs. Brock, signaled the train.”
“You don’t say?”
“That isn’t all,” resumed John Fox. “The passengers took up a contribution, and I expect gave quite a handsome sum to our young friend.”
“How much did the folks give you?” asked Joel eagerly.
“I’ve got fifteen dollars left,” he replied. “I gave some money to Mrs. Brock for the use of the tablecloth.”
John Fox looked disappointed and disgusted.
“You don’t mean to say,” he ejaculated, sharply, “that you gave away almost half of your money for the use of an old tablecloth that would be dear at a dollar?”
“If I hadn’t had the tablecloth, I couldn’t have attracted the engineer’s attention,” said Harry, mildly.