A coach and four at that moment would
not have compensated him for the fact that a complaisant, red-headed
furnaceman, a "po' white trash" arrived but yesterday, was being
allowed to pass the tray that by all rights of precedence belonged to
him.
Waiting impatiently at the station for the train that was to bring the
elusive ices which he had been pursuing all evening, he at last had
the satisfaction of seeing the small engine crawl out of the darkness,
and come to a wheezing halt.
So engrossed were the conductor and brakeman and Uncle Jimpson in
safely depositing the freezers on the platform, that no one noticed a
passenger who had alighted. In fact, it was not until Uncle Jimpson
heard Mrs. Sequin's name that he paused from his labor and looked up.
The stranger was a young, well-built man, wearing a long, shaggy
overcoat, and a cap of a foreign cut that excited the immediate envy
of the brake-man. The bag and the suit case which he carried were
covered with foreign labels, and he had the air of a person who is
suddenly dropped down in a strange place and doesn't quite know what
to do with himself.
"You say you want to git up to Mrs.
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