Sam?"

"May a cherub from the skies come in--yes," replied Sam, rising and
lifting Gertie in his strong arms until he could print a kiss on her
forehead without stooping. "All well at home, Gertie?"

"Very well, thank you. We expect father home to tea."

"I know that," said Sam, sitting down at his small table and attempting
dinner once again.

"How do you know that?" asked Gertie in surprise.

"'Cause I've got to pass him up wi' the express in half-an-hour,"
replied Sam, with his mouth full, "and, of course, he don't prefer
takin' tea on the _Lightenin'_ with his mate Bill Garvie, w'en he's got
a chance o' takin' it wi' his wife and a little angel, like you."

"I wish you'd not talk nonsense, Sam," remonstrated Gertie with a
serious look.

"That ain't nonsense," said Sam, stoutly.

"Yes, it is," said Gertie; "you know angels are good."

"Well, and ain't you good?" demanded the signalman, filling his mouth
with a potato.

"Mother says I am, and I feel as if I was," replied Gertie with much
simplicity, "but you know angels are _very_ _very_ good, and, of
_course_, I'm not near so good as them."

"You are," said Sam, with an obstinate snap at a piece of meat; "you're
better than any of 'em. You only want wings to be complete."

Gertie laughed, and then remarked that Sam dined late, to which Sam
replied that he did, that he preferred it, and that he didn't see why
gentlefolk should have that sort of fun all to themselves.

"What's that?" exclaimed Gertie, as Sam dropped his knife and fork, rang
his electric bell, and laid hold of a lever.

"The limited mail, my dear," said Sam, as the train rushed by.

"Oh, how it shakes the house! I wonder it don't fall," exclaimed the
child.

"It's made to be well shaken, like a bottle o' bad physic," replied Sam,
as he went through the various processes already described, before
sitting down to finish his oft-interrupted meal.

"Do you always take your dinner in that uncomfortable way?" asked
Gertie, sitting down on the chest and looking earnestly into the manly
countenance of her friend.

"Mostly," said Sam, at last finishing off with a draught of pure water,
and smacking his lips.

"Sometimes it's all I can do to get it eaten--other times I'm not so
hard pressed, but it's never got over without interruption, more or
less."

"Are breakfast and tea as bad?"

"Not quite," replied Sam with a laugh; "about breakfast time the traffic
ain't quite so fast and