s comic strips, the bridge column, the crossword puzzle,
and the latest dope on love-nest slayings, peccadilloes of the famous,
the cheesecake photo of the inevitable actress-leaving-for-somewhere, and
the full page photograph of the latest death-on-the-highway debacle. You
look at the picture but you don't read the names in the caption, so you
don't recognize the name, and you haven't been out of your little cage
since lunchtime and Jimmy Holden was not missing then. So you go on:

"So you're going to go to Roundtree."

"Yessir."

"That costs a lot of money, young Mister Holden."

"Yessir." Then this young man hands you an envelope; the cover says,
typewritten: _Ticket Clerk, Midland Railroad_.

A bit puzzled, you open the envelope and find a five-dollar bill folded
in a sheet of manuscript paper. The note says:

Ticket Clerk
Midland Railroad
Dear Sir:

This will introduce my son, James Holden. As a birthday present, I am
sending him for a visit to his grandparents in Roundtree, and to make
the adventure complete, he will travel alone. Pass the word along to
keep an eye on him but don't step in unless he gets into trouble. Ask
the dining car steward to see that he eats dinner on something better
than candy bars.

Otherwise, he is to believe that he is making this trip completely on
his own.

Sincerely, Louis Holden.

PS: Divide the change from this five dollars among you as tips. L.H.

And so you look down at young Mister Holden and get a feeling of
vicarious pleasure. You stamp his ticket and hand it to him with a
gesture. You point out the train-gate he is to go through, and you tell
him that he is to sit in the third railroad car. As he leaves, you pick
up the telephone and call the station-master, the conductor, and since
you can't get the dining-car steward directly, you charge the conductor
with passing the word along.

Then you divide the change. Of the two-fifty, you extract a dollar,
feeling that the Senior Holden is a cheapskate. You slip the other buck
and a half into an envelope, ready for the conductor's hand. He'll think
Holden Senior is more of a cheapskate, and by the time he extracts his
cut, the dining car steward will _know_ that Holden Senior is a
cheapskate. But--

Then a face appears at your window and barks, "Holyoke, Mass.," and your
normal day falls back into shape.

The response of the people you tell about it varies all the way from
outrage that a