mistakable, unforgetable.

"A million curses on the house of Burgeman!" quoth Patsy. "Well,
there's naught for it but to get off at the next station and go
back."

The conductor watched her get off with a distinct feeling of relief.
He had very much feared she was not a responsible person and in no
mental position to be traveling alone. Her departure cleared him of
all uneasiness and obligation and he settled down to his business
with an unburdened mind. Not so Patsy. She blinked at the vanishing
train and then at her empty hands, with the nearest she had ever come
in her life to utter, abject despair. She had left her bag in the
car!

When articulate thinking was possible she remarked, acridly, "Ye need
a baby nurse to mind ye, Patricia O'Connell; and I'm not sure but ye
need a perambulator as well." She gave a tired little stretch to her
body and rubbed her eyes. "I feel as if this was all a silly play and
I was cast for the part of an Irish simpleton; a low-comedy
burlesque--that ye'd swear never happened in real life outside of
the county asylums."

A headlight raced down the track toward her and the city, and she
gathered up what was left of her scattered wits. As the train slowed
up she stepped into the shadows, and her eye fell on the open
baggage-car. She smiled grimly. "Faith! I have a notion I like
brakemen and baggagemen better than conductors."

And so it came to pass as the train started that the baggageman, who
happened to be standing in the doorway, was somewhat startled to see
a small figure come racing toward it out of the dusk and land
sprawling on the floor beside him.

"A girl tramp!" he ejaculated in amazement and disgust, and then, as
he helped her to her feet, "Don't you know you're breaking the law?"

She laughed. "From the feelings, I thought it was something else."
She sobered and turned on him fiercely. "I want ye to understand I've
paid my fare on the train out, which entitled me to one continuous
passage--_with my trunk_. Well, I'm returning--_as my trunk_, I'll
take up no more room and I'll ask no more privileges."

"That may sound sensible, but it's not law," and the man grinned
broadly. "I'm sorry, miss, but off you go at the next station."

"All right," agreed Patsy; "only please don't argue. Sure, I'm sick
entirely of arguing."

She dropped down on a trunk and buried her face in her hands. The
baggageman watched her, hypnotized with curiosity and wonder. At the
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