I dropped my bait into a likelier hole.
Besides, I was not a child any longer, to be bullyragged by older people. Had I not gone fishing a hundred times?—yet no one had ever deemed it odd before.
My float drifted against a snag. I jerked it back.
It was the only unpleasant trait my father had.
Again I squinted at the sun. "Queer," said I, "it should be so late this morning." I pulled up my—
Hark! That was a whistle! There would be just time to reach the open if I ran!
I ran.
Breathless, I made the meadow fence and clambered up—and saw her train go by. Yes, I—I waved to it. Suppose she had seen me! I was only some truant farm-boy on a rail.
Her train ran by me in a cloud of dust and clattered on among the freight-cars. I heard the rumble die away, but the bell kept ringing. The brakeman, doubtless, would help her off—Letitia would be waiting with out-stretched arms—girls are such fools for kissing—and then father would take her bag, and the surrey would whisk her off to the mater, bareheaded at the gate. Rails are sharp sitting; let us look at the cork again.