CHAPTER XIII
PAT HERRON LOSES HIS TEMPER
“Well, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” inquired Mr. Latham as they left the office a few minutes later.
Willard smiled. “I guess it might have been if you hadn’t helped,” he answered.
“Perhaps. Division Superintendents are pretty busy persons. Well, good luck to you, my boy, and I hope the transportation company will get lots of business and soon begin to declare dividends.”
Mr. Latham shook hands in front of the building and Willard, reassuring himself by a look at the station clock, made his way to a small lunch room and dined regally on a bowl of hulled corn afloat in milk and frosted with sugar, two doughnuts, a piece of blueberry pie and a cup of coffee. After that he strolled around the city for a half-hour and finally boarded the express that took him uneventfully back to Audelsville and deposited him on the platform at six minutes after two.
“Auto to any part of the city! Twenty-five cents to any part of the city! Ride up, sir? Auto to—— Hello, Will! I didn’t think you’d make this train. Did you—Meechin’s Hotel? Yes, sir. I’ll take your bag. Right across the road, sir.”
And Tom, casting speculative glances up and down the platform in quest of other customers, led the way to the car, followed by Willard and the owner of the bag, the latter viewing irresolutely Connors’ hack, into which Pat Herron was conducting three other arrivals. But Tom gave him no time to change his mind.
“Here you are, sir! Have you there in three minutes!” he declared, depositing the gentleman’s bag in front and jumping into his seat. “Turn her over, Will! All right!”