“Oh, that’s it!” said he, enlightened, and proceeded to make the following entries of cash saved, on the magic tablet:
Station porter Parlor car $0.55
Pullman porter .15
Hardly had he settled in his place when he heard a familiar voice behind him. He turned. It was Welland, a near neighbor to his apartment. Welland was in the automobile business, from which he was reputed to draw from twenty-five to thirty thousand dollars a year in commissions. It was a surprise to E. Van Tenner to find so glossily prosperous a person, with a reputation as a free spender, in the day coach. He mentioned his surprise.
“War, my dear sir, war,” said Welland. “This nation is at war. I haven’t ridden in a parlor car since last summer.”
“Economy?”
“Principle.”
“I see no principle involved except economy.”
“Don’t you? The fewer heavy parlor cars the less demand on coal and rolling stock. Here I am, unable to get my normal supply of automobiles from the factory, because the railroads can’t handle them. And, mind you, they’re a necessity. They relieve the strain of suburban railway traffic. Men in every other line of necessary business are up against the same thing. So I’m doing my part to relieve the situation by riding in a light day coach, which seats a hundred or so passengers instead of a heavy Pullman, which seats maybe forty.”
E. Van Tenner glowed inwardly with self-satisfaction in that he had taken the unaccustomed and plebeian coach. He felt sure that the beggar’s purse would warmly approve of Welland, When that gentlemen, on his suggestion, moved forward to share his seat he anticipated a pleasanter journey than he would have enjoyed in the parlor car. On the outskirts of the city the train was halted for a minute. Welland pointed out of the window to a great mass of scrap iron which was being pulled apart and loaded on flat cars by a busy gang of workers. To his astonishment he perceived that the workers were women.
“You see that,” said his companion. “Why do you think they put women on such rough work?”