But the best I could do was to let the next
one overtake me several blocks down Marlborough Street, and carry me to
the little jumping-off station on Westchester Park, as we used to call
it in those days, at the end of the Back Bay line.
"As I pushed into the railroad office, I bet myself that the picture
would not be there, and, sure enough, I won."
"You were always a lucky dog," Minver said.
"But the man in charge was very encouraging, and said it was sure to be
turned in; and he asked me what time the car had passed the corner of
Gloucester Street. I happened to know, and then he said, Oh yes, that
conductor was a substitute, and he wouldn't be on again till morning;
then he would be certain to bring the picture with him. I was not to
worry, for it would be all right. Nothing left in the Back Bay cars was
ever lost; the character of the abutters was guarantee for that, and
they were practically the only passengers. The conductors and the
drivers were as honest as the passengers, and I could consider myself in
the hands of friends.
"He was so reassuring that I went away smiling at my fears, and
promising to be round bright and early, as soon, the official
suggested--the morrow being Sunday--as soon as the men and horses had
had their baked beans.
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