ay trousers, with his feet encased in overshoes, seemed
to the casual observer rather ridiculous.

"Why," thought Ruth, "he looks as Seneca Sprague might if he were
dressed up and going to his own wedding," and she laughed to think of
that ridiculous possibility regarding one of the well-known characters
of Milton.

This old gentleman was a stranger to her, Ruth was sure. Milton being a
junction point of two railroads, there were often strangers about the
railroad station waiting for connections on one or the other of the
roads. This man must be, the girl thought, such a marooned passenger.

As he reached the edge of the shade cast by the trees on Pleasant Street
and stepped into the glare of the open square about the railway station,
he unfurled a huge umbrella and raised it to shield himself from the
sun's glare. It was a most astonishing umbrella. The upper side was a
faded green; the under side an age-yellowed white.

"Why," thought Ruth, "it must be an heirloom in his family."

Amused, she continued directly behind the old gentleman as he started to
cross the four tracks which blotted the center of Milton. Accidents had
happened more than once at this grade crossing, and the town councilmen
had been in hot water with the taxpayers for some years regarding the
changing of the railroad's level.

There were drop gates, but only one decrepit watchman here at Pleasant
Street. Ruth always looked both ways when she started to cross the
tracks. And at this time--or about this time--in the afternoon the
so-called Cannon-Ball Express went through. That train did not even
hesitate at Milton.

Quite as a matter of course, the girl halted when she came to the tracks
and looked both east and west. A freight train was backing down past the
station on the third track. The second track was open for passenger
traffic. There was a growing roar from the west.

The old gentleman stopped and peered in that direction. He could easily
have crossed ahead of the slow freight, but like Ruth he was doubtful
regarding the growing clamor of the approaching express, although that
fast-flier was not yet in sight at the curve.

"But it's coming!" murmured Ruth. "He mustn't cross!"

The old gentleman with the green umbrella had no intention of crossing
ahead of the express; but Ruth heard him utter an impatient exclamation
as he stepped back a little from proximity to the second track, the
first track being merely a siding for shunted fr