“You did?” exclaimed Willard. “You didn’t say anything about it. Why, it’s dollars to doughnuts it came for Mr. Latham!”
“That’s what I thought,” answered Tom dryly. “And that’s why I didn’t say anything. Think I wanted to lose a passenger?”
Willard and Spider laughed delightedly. Presently, though, as they turned up River Street, Willard sighed and then frowned.
“I wish,” he said, “we’d known who he was, Tom. We might have asked him to let us have a stand at the station.”
“Gee!” said Tom. “That’s so! We might go back, Will?”
But at that instant the train made the crossing, and so Tom, who had slowed down the car, advanced the throttle lever again and continued on his way with a sigh for the neglected opportunity.
CHAPTER XI
THE NEWS-PATRIOT AIDS
That evening Tom, who made the trip to the 6:05 train alone, picked up two passengers and so swelled the day’s receipts to one dollar and a half. Connors seldom sent more than one carriage to the 6:05 and on this occasion Pat Herron was late and Tom reaped what small harvest there was before the livery hack reached the platform. Pat’s look of chagrin more than made up for the insults to his beloved Ark that Tom had been forced to bear.
The next morning Tom and Willard went around to the hotel and saw the proprietor, Mr. Timothy Meechin. Tim, as he was called, was a stout, good-natured man with florid face and a loud laugh who had inherited the hotel property from his father, “Meechin’s” having been a road tavern in the old days when Audelsville was only a wayside settlement. Almost everyone liked Tim Meechin, and his hotel was well conducted and popular, which was a fortunate thing since it was the only hostelry deserving the name in town. But, although Mr. Meechin was kindness itself and seemed genuinely interested in the boys’ venture, he had to refuse their request.