train got kind of fresh: he didn't know who I was. Well, I
just put my hand on his shoulder and pushed him down in his seat like
this"--he set his hand upon Miss Pratt's shoulder. "I didn't want to hit
him, because there was women and chuldren in the car, so I just shoved
my face up close to him, like this. 'I guess you don't know how much
stock my father's got in this road,' I says. Did he wilt? Well, you
ought of seen that brakeman when I got through tellin' him who I was!"

"Nassy ole brateman!" said Miss Pratt, with unfailing sympathy.

Mr. Crooper's fat hand, as if unconsciously, gave Miss Pratt's delicate
shoulder a little pat in reluctant withdrawal. "Well, that's the way
with me," he said. "Much as I been around this world, nobody ever tried
to put anything over on me and got away with it. They always come out
the little end o' the horn; I dunno why it is. Say, that's a mighty
smooth locket you got on the end o' that chain, there." And again
stretching forth his hand, in a proprietor-like way, he began to examine
the locket.

Three hot hearts, just behind, pulsated hatred toward him; for Johnnie
Watson had perceived his error, and his sentiments were now linked
to those of Joe Bullitt and William. The unhappiness of these three
helpless spectators was the more poignant because not only were they
witnesses of the impression of greatness which George Crooper was
obviously producing upon Miss Pratt, but they were unable to prevent
themselves from being likewise impressed.

They were not analytical; they dumbly accepted George at his own rating,
not even being able to charge him with lack of modesty. Did he not
always accompany his testimonials to himself with his deprecating
falsetto laugh and "I dunno why it is," an official disclaimer of merit,
"as it were"? Here was a formidable candidate, indeed--a traveler, a man
of the world, with brains better and quicker than other people's brains;
an athlete, yet knightly--he would not destroy even a brakeman in the
presence of women and children--and, finally, most enviable and deadly,
the owner and operator of a "little racer"! All this glitter was not far
short of overpowering; and yet, though accepting it as fact, the woeful
three shared the inconsistent belief that in spite of everything George
was nothing but a big, fat lummox. For thus they even rather loudly
whispered of him--almost as if hopeful that Miss Pratt, and mayhap
George himself, might overhear.

Im