"When does the train go to York, somebody?" asked the old lady, looking about her in a general way.
"Next train; comes round in about five minutes."
Sam helped the old lady back into the depot, rather ashamed of the mistake he had made. He saw that she had lost some of her confidence in him, and it mortified him somewhat.
It was nearly ten minutes afterwards,—for the train was late, before the right cars came up.
Sam dashed into the depot again, and seized a bandboX. — "Here's the cars. Come along," he said.
"I won't stir a step till I know if it's the right cars," said the old lady firmly.
"Then you may stay here," said Sam. "I'm goin'."
"Don't leave your grandmother," said a gentleman, standing by.
"She isn't my grandmother. Isn't this the train to New York?"
"Yes."