The woman sighed, for she was in poor health and very tired. A man sitting just behind said, indignantly: "No, madam, it is not taken. Remove your valise, boy, and let the lady sit down." "I am expecting a friend to get in at the next station," said Abel, crossly. "That makes no difference. This lady is here, and is better entitled to a seat than a passenger in the next town." "I don't see what business it is of yours," said Abel, irritably. He made no offer to remove the valise. "Then I will show you." The gentleman took Abel's bag and set it down in the aisle. "Now sit down, madam," he said. "Thank you, sir, but I don't want to incommode the young gentleman." "He has no right to feel incommoded. Take the seat. It is your right." She sank into the seat with a sigh of relief. Abel felt and looked very indignant. He was a boy who had always been accustomed to consult his own comfort and convenience, and he was vexed that he had been compelled to yield in the present instance. The woman coughed. She evidently had a severe cold. Abel had opened the window, and a strong east wind entered. It would have been uncomfortable even to a person perfectly well, but to one having a cough it was very trying. "Would you mind putting down the window?" she asked, timidly. "I have a terrible cold." "I prefer it open," said Abel, rudely. The passenger behind was cognizant of all that passed. "Madam," he said, "will you exchange seats with me?" She rose and took the rear seat while the gentleman seated himself beside Abel. He was a stout man, and filled more than half the seat. Abel looked disgusted. "Now, young man, close that window!" said the stout man, in a tone of command. Abel obeyed, but it was with great unwillingness. He did not dare to do otherwise. "It is very close," he grumbled. "I like a little air." "There is no other open window on this side the car. If the others can stand it, you can." "I wish people would mind their own business," grumbled Abel, peevishly. "Look here, young man, if you give me any more of your impudence I will give you a thrashing!" said the stout man, sternly. He looked quite capable of carrying out his threat, and Abel, thoroughly cowed, relapsed into silence. At length they reached Portville, and Abel, picking up his valise, stepped out of the car. He looked about him on the platform, thinking he might see his mother, but she was not quite sure as to the train by which Abel would come, and had not come to meet him. Abel looked about and espied a boy rather younger than himself. It was John Holman. "Boy," he said, "can you tell me where Mrs. Lane lives?" "The widow Lane?" "Yes, she is a widow." "About half a mile away. You go up this road and take two turns." "Oh, bother, why didn't she come to meet me? How can I find the way?" "Come along with me. I am going that way." "All right! Won't you take my valise, too? That's a good fellow. I will pay you five cents."