The woman made no remark; she was evidently one of the secretaries. “Well, by gum, if they had left me where they left you last night, and you a plumb stranger, I'd rared and pitched a little myself,” continued the man. “When you come again--” “Come again! Not by a--” “Oh, yes, you will. You did them Hard-shells a lot of good! You just bet your bottom dollar they'll look out for the next one of you fellows that comes up here!” The woman continued silent. She would have something to say about any return visit of mine, and she intended to say it out loud if the time ever came! The station now loomed into sight. I sprang out and tried the knob. I knew all about that knob--every twist and turn of it. “Locked again!” I shouted, “and I've got to wait here an hour in this--” “Hold on--_hold on_--” shouted back the driver. “Don't break loose again. I got the key.” My mail a week later brought me a county paper containing this statement: “The last lecturer, owing to some error on the part of the committee, was not met at the train and was considerably vexed. He said so to the audience and to the committee. Everybody was satisfied with his talk until they heard what they had to pay for it. He also said that he had left his dress suit in his trunk. If what we hear is true, he left his manners with it.” On reflection, the editor was right--_I had_. End of Project Gutenberg's Forty Minutes Late, by F. Hopkinson Smith