“Mona,” I said timidly, for by this time she had calmed herself, and was only snickering occasionally. “You wouldn't let that man hurt me, would you?”
“That man—the baggage-master?”
“Yes, Mona.”
“Don't be afraid. When your turn comes to be handled, he will be quite gentle. I saw Anthony giving him a good big tip.”
“A tip?”
“Yes—money—to be good to us.”
“Meow!” I screamed suddenly, for as the baggage-master stood panting and glaring after his fit of fury, some other crazy men outside began to fling back all that he had just put out. However, I did not need to be afraid, for now his rage was quite over, and he seized the things rapidly, and put them all neatly into the corner of the car furthest away from us.
“Mona,” I said indignantly, “it was hardly safe to put us in with that violent creature. If Anthony should leave us, I am sure we would go out.”
“Hush! Pussy,” said the good dog authoritatively. “He is only doing what he is paid to do. At every station he must throw out passengers' luggage and take on more.”
A sudden light broke over me. Was that what he was doing?