"The conductor didn't know you."

"Yes, he did know me. I rid over this road only a week ago, when I went down to St. Louis to see my nephew."

It was useless to argue the point with her. Perhaps, if she had made no fuss when she got into the car, the conductor might have entertained a different opinion of her. I wanted to obtain some information of her in regard to the Collingsby family; and I am willing to offer this as the reason for my chivalrous conduct.

"You know Mr. Collingsby, if he does not know you," I said, in order to introduce the subject.

"He's my son's pardner in business."

"Are you personally acquainted with him?"

"Well, I can't say I am much acquainted with him. His folks and ourn don't visit much, for, you see, the Collingsbys are rich and smart."

"He has a brother, I have heard."

"Yes; his brother Joseph is in Europe, with his wife and his sister."

"His sister?" I queried, deeply interested in this branch of the topic.

"Her name's Louise. She merried a good-for-nothin' feller in St. Louis, and left him; so she's a gra.s.s widder now."

"Did you ever see her?"

"I never did; but law sake, I've hearn my son Charles tell all about 'em. He knows 'em, root and branch; and they are all on 'em jest about as proud as Lucifer, and as consayted as a pullet over her fust egg.

They're rich, and that's all that can be said on 'em. My son Charles does all the business of the firm, and if it wan't for him they'd all gone to ruin long ago."

"But this Mr. Collingsby has a father?"

"Yes; and he's jest like all the rest on 'em. They are all proud and consayted, and they come naterally enough by it, for the old man thinks the ground ain't good enough for him to tread on."

"But he is not in business now?"

"Ain't he, though? Yes, he is. He's the sleepin' pardner of the house of Collingsby and Whippleton. He put some money into it; but my son Charles finds all the brains."

Of course I could not help having a very high estimate of her son Charles; but I was not quite prepared to believe that my grandfather and my uncles were so deficient in everything but pride as she represented. Mrs. Whippleton continued to enlighten me in regard to the character and antecedents of the Collingsbys until the train stopped for dinner. I got out, and took a lunch, after the old lady had refused my invitation to do so. Reflecting that she had no money, I carried her a cup of tea and some sandwiches, which she did not refuse. The tea was hot and strong, and in refined and elegant phrase, she informed me that it "went to the right spot." I returned the cup and saucer as the bell rang, and resumed my place at her side.

"You are a real nice young man, and I'm only sorry I didn't take you into the seat with me when you fust got in," said she, apparently overcome by my chivalrous devotion to her comfort.

"Thank you, madam," I replied. "I remembered that you said you had not money enough even to buy a dinner, and I always like to do as I'd be done by."

"But I ain't so poor as you think for. I will pay you for my fare and for my tea," she continued; and, to my astonishment, she took from the folds of her dress a roll of bills, which had been carefully pinned in.

"I thought you had no money!" I exclaimed, amazed at the sight I saw.

"I didn't want to rob you. I hate mean folks, and I ain't afeered on 'em," she added, as she handed me the twelve dollars I had paid on her account.

"But you may find your ticket," I suggested.

"I don't expect to find it," she replied, with abundant resignation.

"If you do, I will get the money for it."

"I shall not find it. To tell the truth, I didn't have no ticket," she answered, in a low tone, and with a vile chuckling, which indicated that she was not to blame, even if her clever trick had failed.

I took the twelve dollars, and considered myself the luckiest person in the world. I did not blame Mr. Collingsby for not recognizing her, even if he did know her, and I begrudged the quarter I had expended upon her in tea and sandwiches.

CHAPTER V.

IN WHICH PHIL TAKES A ROOM AT MRS. WHIPPLETON'S BOARDING-HOUSE.

It was quite a shock to me to find that one whom I had supposed to be honest was guilty of a deliberate attempt to defraud the railroad company out of the sum of twelve dollars; who had resorted to gross lies and mean deception to carry her point. Upon my honor and conscience, I would rather have lost the twelve dollars I had advanced than had the old woman turn out to be a swindler. She might be fussy, she might be disagreeable, she might be a dozen things that are uncomfortable and unpleasant, if she had only _meant_ to be true and honest, and I could have respected her.

I was amazed; first, that she could be guilty of such a vile trick; and second, that she had had the hardihood to acknowledge it, even to a boy like me. My respect for the knowledge and penetration of the gentlemanly conductor rose about ten degrees, and I was tempted to say to myself that I would never again interfere in behalf of another "lone woman,"

especially if she was the mother of one as smart as her son Charles.

"You needn't tell that nasty conductor what I say," said Mrs.

Whippleton, as if conscious that she had been imprudent in revealing so much to me.

"I don't think he needs to be told. It appears now that he understood the case perfectly," I replied, disgusted with my seat-mate. "He said you did not have any ticket, and that it was all a trick to evade paying your fare."

"He didn't know that. He may say just the same thing six times, and be mistaken five on 'em."

"Didn't you intend to pay your fare?"

"Perhaps I should, if they hadn't p.u.s.s.icuted me so in the beginning."

"But you didn't buy a ticket."

"No, I didn't. You are a green boy. What difference does it make to this railroad company whether I paid my fare or not? They've got money enough."

"But they wouldn't make much if people didn't pay."

"It don't make no difference if one don't pay now and then. You hain't seen much of the world yet, my boy. When you have lived to be as old as I am, you'll know more."

"I hope I shall not live so long as to be proud of being dishonest," I replied, with considerable spirit.

"Dishonest? What do you mean by that? Do you pretend to say I'm dishonest?"

"Well, madam, we needn't quarrel about words; but, if I had tried to cheat the railroad company out of twelve dollars, or twelve cents, I should call it being dishonest."

"You are a silly boy."

"I hope I always shall be silly, then. I should think G.o.d had forsaken me, if I could deliberately try to wrong any one."

"You haven't seen the world. I have worked hard in my time. It took me a good while to earn twelve dollars; and when I see a chance to save twelve dollars, I generally always does so."