The train reached Aldbrickham, and the boy was deposited on the lonely platform beside his box. The collector took his ticket, and, with a meditative sense of the unfitness of things, asked him where he was going by himself at that time of night.
“Going to Spring Street,” said the little one impassively.
“Why, that’s a long way from here; a’most out in the country; and the folks will be gone to bed.”
“I’ve got to go there.”
“You must have a fly for your box.”
“No. I must walk.”
“Oh well: you’d better leave your box here and send for it. There’s a ‘bus goes half-way, but you’ll have to walk the rest.”
“I am not afraid.”
“Why didn’t your friends come to meet ’ee?”
“I suppose they didn’t know I was coming.”