Desk and Debit Part 4

"Shall I trust her for her fare?"

"Do as you please. As I don't know her, I cannot vouch for her,"

replied Mr. Collingsby, in a tone which implied that, if the conductor knew what he was about, he would not disturb him any further on the disagreeable subject.

"Mr. Collingsby does not know you, madam."

"That's what I call mean!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Whippleton, bitterly. "I don't believe he'd know his own father if the old man didn't wear a fashionable hat."

"He doesn't dispute what you say; but he doesn't know you. I must have your fare, madam."

"I keep telling you, I hain't got no money."

"Then you must get out here."

"You don't mean so!"

"Yes, I do. Shall I help you out with your baggage?"

"But I'll pay you when I get to Chicago."

"That won't do. In a word, madam, I don't believe you lost your ticket."

"Goodness! Do you think I'd lie about it?"

"I'm sorry to say I do think so. If I mistake not, you have tried this game on before."

"What imperance!"

"Come, madam, be in a hurry!" persisted the conductor, reaching forward and taking the old lady's largest bundle from the rack.

"I should like to speak to you a moment, Mr. Conductor," I interposed, unable any longer to contain my indignation.

"What do you want?"

I rose, and requested him to go with me to the rear of the car.

"Speak quick, young man. Do you know this woman?" demanded the bustling official.

"No; but I will be responsible for her fare," I replied, with as much dignity as Mr. Collingsby could have a.s.sumed. "If she don't pay you when we get to Chicago, I will."

"Will you, indeed! That is very kind of you; but we don't do business in that way," laughed the conductor, with a glance which indicated how much he pitied my greenness. "She has money enough, and she didn't buy any ticket. It is only a trick to get rid of paying her fare."

"I will be responsible for the fare."

"Pay it now, then," added the conductor, shrugging his shoulders.

I do not know what it was that prompted me to this chivalrous action in favor of a very disagreeable old lady; but I felt like a Christian who was fighting the battle of his enemy. I took out my porte-monnaie, and from the fifty-three dollars I had left of the sum I had taken to pay my expenses, I gave the conductor twelve. He handed me a check for the old lady, jumped out, and started the train. He treated me as though he thought I was a fool; and I was myself inclined to believe he was more than half right.

Several pa.s.sengers had left the car at this station, and when I returned to my seat, I found that Mr. Collingsby had changed his place for one where he had a whole chair to himself, at some distance from the old lady. I had no doubt he was glad to escape from the vicinity of the troublesome pa.s.senger; but he still read his newspaper, as though nothing had for a moment ruffled the current of his thoughts.

"I knew he wouldn't dare to put me out of the car!" said Mrs.

Whippleton, as I resumed my seat at her side. "Don't talk to me! He didn't dare to perpetuate such an outrage."

"We are all right now," I replied.

"Yes, we are. Put me out! I should like to seen him done it! I should!

I reckon my son Charles would have taught him what it was to perpetuate such an outrage on his mother. As for that Mr. Collingsby, he's a mean man! Only to think that he didn't know me!"

"Have you ever met him?"

"Have I? Yes, I have. I have been in the counting-room when he was there, and he looked right at me! And now he don't know me! No matter; that conductor didn't dare to put me out of the car! He would have lost his place if he had."

I handed her the check which the gentlemanly official had given me.

"What's that?"

"Your check."

"He's gettin' very perlite. How came he to give you this?"

"Because I paid your fare," I replied, in a low tone; for I did not care to expose my innocence to the people around me.

"You did?"

"Yes; he would certainly have put you out of the car if I had not."

"I don't believe a word on't."

"I do, Mrs. Whippleton. He says you have done the same thing before."

"He's a fearful liar. I'll tell my son Charles all about it, and, if he has any influence, that man shall smart for it."

"I don't think the conductor is to blame. He only did his duty."

"Then you think I'm to blame," said she, putting on her dignity.

"If you lost your ticket--"

"Do you think I didn't lose it?" she interposed, quick to catch even an implied imputation.

"Of course I think you did lose it. But the conductor cannot pa.s.s every one who says he has lost his ticket."

"Well, I don't care. It was a mean trick, and I'll tell Charles all about it."

"I wouldn't say anything to him about it. It will only worry him; and the conductor isn't to blame."

"Do you think it is right to put a lone woman out of the car because she lost her ticket?"