try. I should like to live in the city where
there's theaters, and shows, and such like. Do you know what the drivers
on street cars get?"

"No, I never heard."

"I wish you'd find out and let me know. You can send the letter to Joel
Phipps, Groveton. Then find out if it's easy to get such a chance."

"I will. I shall be glad to oblige you."

"You always was obligin', Rodney. I've asked Jack Bundy to do it--you
know his folks live in the city--but he never would. He's a mighty
disagreeable boy. He never liked you."

"Didn't he?"

"No, I surmise he was jealous of you. He used to say you put on so many
airs it made him sick."

"I don't think any of the other boys would say that."

"No, but they could say it of him. Do you think his father is rich?"

"I have always heard that he was."

"I hope he's better about paying his debt than Jack. I lent him twenty
five cents a year ago and I never could get it back."

The distance from the school to the station was a mile. Joel fetched the
carriage round with a sweep and then jumped off, opened the door, and
then helped the passengers to disembark, if that word is allowable.

"How soon does the train start, Joel?" asked Rodney.

"In about five minutes."

"Then I had better purchase my ticket without delay."

"Don't forget to ask about horse car drivers!"

"No, I won't. I should like to have you come to New York. I know no one
there, and I should feel glad to see a familiar face."

The train came up in time, and Rodney was one of half a dozen passengers
who entered the cars.

He obtained a place next to a stout man dressed in a pepper and salt
suit.

"Is this seat engaged?" asked Rodney.

"Yes--to you," and his fellow passenger laughed.

Rodney laughed too, for he saw that the remark was meant to be jocose.

He put his gripsack on the floor at his feet, but held the casket in his
lap. He did not like to run any risk with that.

"Are you a drummer?" asked the stout man, with a glance at the casket.

"No, sir."

"I thought you might be, and that THAT might contain your samples."

"No, sir. That is private property."

He had thought of telling what it contained, but checked himself. He
knew nothing of his companion, and was not sure how far it might be safe
to trust a stranger.

"I used to be a drummer myself--in the jewelry line--" continued his
companion, "and I carried a box just like that."

"Ah, indeed! Then you are not in that business now?"