“‘First off they did but sense then there’s nothin’ but trouble—an’ you comin’ nigh to bein’ put in Sing Sing!’ “‘Well I wasn’t, was I?’ “‘—An’ one dreadful mess after another—an’ put with people you’d ought ter know better’n to _be_ with! Don’t ye s’pose I know ’em, with your father what he was! I tell you I ain’t goin’ to have it!’ (Her voice rising into a loud wail.) ‘_You got to stop, Jamie. You got to git off this train an’ come back home with me! You_ ——’ “‘Quiet down, can’t ye—people might get it!’ “There was silence between the two for a while, and I noticed, as the train was running into the Bridgeport station—the first stop after One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street—that Jamie was watching for something out of the window, his quick glance shifting up and down the west-bound tracks. “The old woman got to her feet as the train came to a stop, and told him he must come with her and get the next train back. But he pulled her down into the seat again—not roughly but rather protectingly in a way—saying as he did, ‘Not here, Jenny! We can get a better train out of New Haven.’ “‘You’ll come then?’ the old woman asked. “‘Sure,’ said Jamie. “She seemed greatly relieved. “He had a time-table, and studied it for quite a while, and as we neared New Haven (the next stop) he kept the same keen watch on the west-bound tracks as he’d done at Bridgeport. But this time he saw what he wanted, for there was a New York Express three or four tracks over, roaring and sizzling to get away. It was No. 21 from Boston, and as luck would have it, running nine minutes late. He had his mother up and at the door before our train had come to a standstill, and they were off the car in a jiffy and disappearing down the stairway—for he had to cross to the New York tracks in a subway. It was an even bet whether he made it or not, and I got off the train—keeping close to it, though, in case it started—and ran along the platform trying to find a place where I could see across into the windows of the other train—there were roofs or something that cut off the view here and there. Just as I came about opposite to the last coach of the New York Express I got a view through, and saw them in that car, walking down the aisle looking for a seat,—so I knew they’d made it. Jamie was carrying his heavy valise—the old woman close herding on him as the cattle men say. “It was only a few seconds after they got aboard when No. 21, after hissing contemptuously a few times as the brakes went on and off, got under way for New York. “The train I was on—the Boston train—left the station about five minutes later, and I was sitting down, nursing my balked curiosity and the story that didn’t pan, when it dawned on me that I had a seat reserved in one of the Pullmans, which, in the case of this train, were trailing at the rear with the dining car. So I got my bag and started back to find it.