Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 106: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GUY HAMMERSLEY. ay ‘*One wouid think they were all afraid of me,” he said to himself, ‘‘ or else had heard about my experi- ence at the office of the /ireside Favorite.” Then for the want of something better to do he fell to wondering if the seat-mate that he must have before long would be a man or a woman. ‘Tf I was the hero of a story book,” he said to himself, ‘‘a wealthy merchant would come in at the next station, take a seat next me, pull a roll of bills out of his pocket as he takes out his ticket, which drops on the floor, and I pick up and restore to him instead of pocketing, to be rewarded by the offer of a twenty dollar a week position in the merchant's office.” Guy had just about added the finishing touches to this picture when the train drew up at the next station, and the only passenger to enter that car was a small ° boy of eleven or twelve, with fair hair, a pale but interesting face, and a carpet satchel so heavily laden that he could barely carry it. Staggering under his burden, he reached Guy’s seat and dropped into it, quite exhausted. But he was up again in a minute as a little girl’s head appeared in the doorway, and a trembling voice cried out: ‘‘ Good-bye again, Jack!” ‘‘Oh, Tot, get off, quick! You will be killed,” and the boy made a wild rush for the door. Guy saw him take the little girl in his arms for one brief moment, then he disappeared with her for an instant, and, just as the cars moved off, he came back slowly, trying to look out at the station over the passengers’ heads, and with a suspicious glitter in each eye. Gomicboo cS (E(0) m