“Yes,” said George, “but ma says I didn’t get enough.” “I’ll go with you,” said his sister. “Bass, will you come along?” “No,” said the young man, indifferently, “I won’t.” He was adjusting his necktie and felt irritated. “There ain’t any,” said George, “unless we get it off the cars. There wasn’t any cars where I was.” “There are, too,” exclaimed Bass. “There ain’t,” said George. “Oh, don’t quarrel,” said Jennie. “Get the baskets and let’s go right now before it gets too late.” The other children, who had a fondness for their big sister, got out the implements of supply—Veronica a basket, Martha and William buckets, and George, a big clothes-basket, which he and Jennie were to fill and carry between them. Bass, moved by his sister’s willingness and the little regard he still maintained for her, now made a suggestion. “I’ll tell you what you do, Jen,” he said. “You go over there with the kids to Eighth Street and wait around those cars. I’ll be along in a minute. When I come by don’t any of you pretend to know me. Just you say, ‘Mister, won’t you please throw us some coal down?’ and then I’ll get up on the cars and pitch off enough to fill the baskets. D’ye understand?” “All right,” said Jennie, very much pleased. Out into the snowy night they went, and made their way to the railroad tracks. At the intersection of the street and the broad railroad yard were many heavily laden cars of bituminous coal newly backed in. All of the children gathered within the shadow of one. While they were standing there, waiting the arrival of their brother, the Washington Special arrived, a long, fine train with several of the new style drawing-room cars, the big plate-glass windows shining and the passengers looking out from the depths of their comfortable chairs. The children instinctively drew back as it thundered past. “Oh, wasn’t it long?” said George. “Wouldn’t I like to be a brakeman, though,” sighed William. Jennie, alone, kept silent, but to her particularly the suggestion of travel and comfort had appealed. How beautiful life must be for the rich! Sebastian now appeared in the distance, a mannish spring in his stride, and with every evidence that he took himself seriously. He was of that peculiar stubbornness and determination that had the children failed to carry out his plan of procedure he would have gone deliberately by and refused to help them at all. Martha, however, took the situation as it needed to be taken, and piped out childishly, “Mister, won’t you please throw us down some coal?” Sebastian stopped abruptly, and looking sharply at them as though he were really a stranger, exclaimed, “Why, certainly,” and proceeded to climb up on the car, from whence he cast down with remarkable celerity more than enough chunks to fill their baskets. Then as though not caring to linger any longer amid such plebeian company, he hastened across the network of tracks and was lost to view.