At the corner next beyond the Gleason home Darley Roberts caught the nine o'clock car, and remained on it until the end of the division, practically the extreme opposite edge of the town, was reached. He was the last passenger to leave, and as the motorman was reversing the trolley he paused a moment in the vestibule. "Normal load was it, Johnson?" he asked the conductor. "You rang up twenty-four fares, I noticed." The man looked consciously surprised to be called by name. "Yes, Mr. Roberts," he said; "we carry anywhere between twenty and thirty at this time of night." "How about the next trip, nine-thirty?" "Better yet if anything." "And the next, the last?" "Best of all. The straps are nearly always loaded." Roberts buttoned up his coat deliberately. "Think it would pay to run a couple of hours longer?" he asked, and this time the conductor all but flushed at the unexpected confidence. "Yes; I'm sure it would, Mr. Roberts; especially when the school's in session. The boys would ride half the night if they could." "There seems to be a good deal in that. By the way, you have only one shift on this car now, I understand." It was the long-hoped-for opportunity and Johnson grew eloquent. "Right you are, and it's the dog's life for us men. I've had only one hot meal a day since I took the job." He searched the impassive face before him with a glance. "If the schedule was stretched a little, now, at either end and a second shift added--" "That's a good idea. I'm glad it occurred to you. Better speak to the superintendent about it yourself; he'll see the point." Roberts alighted deliberately. "Any suggestion you men in the service make is valuable." As he vanished up the street toward his destination, in the fulness of knowledge that the contemplated suggestion had been decided from the turning of the first wheel on the system, he left behind him a man imbued with an _esprit de corps_ that was to grow and leaven the entire working force. It took but a minute all told! Five minutes later, in the half dark doorway of a cottage on a side street, he was face to face with Harry Randall. "Pardon me if I intrude," he was saying, "but I'm going out of town to-morrow and I wish to talk with you a bit before I go. Can you spare me a little time?" "Certainly." Randall's manner was decidedly stiff. Nevertheless he led the way through the vestibule and living-room to the dining-room beyond. There he halted significantly. "By the way," he began, "the furniture I mentioned--" "Damn the furniture!" Roberts met his host's look steadily. "You know me better than that, by reputation if nothing more. I said I wished to talk with you. May I?" Randall colored, and the stiffness vanished as by a miracle. "Pardon me," he said. "I've got a sort of den upstairs where I do my work." Again he led the way. "My wife's out of town, though, now, and things are a bit mussy." Roberts made no comment, and they mounted the stairs in silence.