“Hope’s cheap,” Edward retorted. It was his custom not to give away information in regard to the trains too easily. He liked to keep the superior knowledge that his post gave him for the gratification of his own vanity. Julie would have liked to slip away unnoticed into the station, but she also wanted very much to know whether or not the train was on time, for if it were hours late--as it sometimes was--she would not be able to do much shopping in Red River, and so would put off her trip until the next day. Therefore she mustered courage to put the question direct, although she had a painfully acute inner remembrance of how very forlorn her face had looked in the mirror that morning. “Is--is Twelve on time?” she asked. “Is--is Twelve on time,” he mimicked, and turned to wink at the near-by drummers. But it was a wink misplaced. One of the men, who had been teetering gayly up and down on the precarious footing of the iron track, in sheer exuberance of health and the fine morning, turned a sudden flaming red, and removed the cigar abruptly from his mouth. “The lady’s asked you if the train’s on time. You’re here to tell her!” he blazed. In sulky surprise, Edward Black attempted to turn away as though called by important business elsewhere, but the drummer came a stride nearer, and curled his fists. “Tell her!” he commanded. “Yes, it’s on time,” Edward answered and made a sullen escape. The drummer turned to Julie, and swept off his hat. “Lady, your train’s on time,” he announced. “Oh--oh, thank you!” Julie faltered, and retreated into the station in an agony of embarrassment. As she fled, she heard the drummer comment to his friend, “Oh, Lord, how I do hate that kind of a fat bully! I hope to heavens if I ever get to France all the Germans’ll look just like him. If they do, I’ll not have any trouble at all stickin’ bayonets into ’em.” Julie knew that the words were perfectly audible to Edward Black and that he would not fail to pay her back for them. She still had her ticket to buy, and when he opened the ticket window she approached in apprehension. They were alone in the station. “Say, Julie, I got a joke on you,” he jeered. “Say, I know how you go to prayer meetin’.” The color rushed into Julie’s face. “Say,” he pursued, watching her from under the drooped lids of his pig eyes, “What was you doin’ sittin’ out on the church steps last night, when everybody else was inside?” So Edward Black, of all people, had seen her! “Nothing--it wasn’t anything,” she stumbled, knowing that her voice sounded frightened, and that her cheeks were blazing. “Oh, yes, it was nothin’! Nothin’ be dogged! Folks don’t turn red like that over nothin’. Well, I’m goin’ to tell people how Julie Rose goes to prayer-meeting!” But here Number Twelve whistled down the line--a clear burst of sound, cutting joyously through the air. Edward Black had to supply Julie with her ticket, and so she was delivered.