drawled Tom, who had not only a store of good poetry always on tap but was also well provided with plenty that was not so good.
“Your poetry is rank, Tom,” laughed Teddy, as he made a pass at him, “but the sentiment is all to the good. We’ll get the hay in in the early part of the game.”
Just then there was a whistle in the distance.
“Here she comes!” went up the cry and there was a general scurry toward the front of the platform. The train was a local, with only three cars, and it was a certainty that with the unusual crush that morning a lot of the passengers would have to stand.
The train drew up with a clang and a rattle, and there was a regular football rush the moment it came to a stop.
“Get aboard!” shouted one.
“If you can’t get a board, get a plank,” yelled another.
“Easy there,” shouted the conductor, as the swirling mob almost swept him off his feet.
But he might as well have tried to check a cyclone. They swarmed around him, and in less than a minute the train was packed. There was a lot of jolly, good-natured scuffling to get the vacant seats.
“Wow! get off my toes!” yelled one of the unlucky ones.