“What!” The conductor glared at the agent. “What did you set that signal for?”
“He bought a ticket,” answered the agent aggrievedly, “and said he wanted to go to New York.”
The conductor sprang up the steps, waving his hand to the impatient engineer.
“The next time,” he called crossly, “you’d better decide what you want to do! This isn’t a trolley car! All right!” The vestibule doors slammed shut and in another moment the express was entering the cut, the last car flirting by in a cloud of dust with an insulted air.
“You’re a nice one,” charged the agent. “Thought you wanted to go to New York. Want to get me in trouble, do you?”
“I do want to go to New York,” answered Dan earnestly. “I’d like nothing better. But when I got to thinking it over I decided that I oughtn’t to expect the school to get along without me.”
“Oh, you did!” said the agent suspiciously, looking from Dan’s preternaturally sober countenance to Arthur’s trembling mouth. “One of your fool tricks, I suppose. I got a good mind to report this to Doctor Hewitt, I have.”
“I don’t see why you need be so impatient with me,” complained Dan plaintively. “What difference does it make whether I got on the train or not? You ought to be glad that I’ve listened to the voice of duty.”
“Yah!” muttered the agent, turning on his heel and retiring to the station. Dan smiled sweetly and winked at Arthur.