A Romance in Transit Read online

  VII

  A DINNER ON WHEELS

  When the President's party gathered about the table, Mrs. Dunham placedBrockway at her right, with Gertrude beside him. Mr. Vennor disapprovedof the arrangement, but he hoped that Priscilla Beaswicke, who wasBrockway's _vis-a-vis_, might be depended upon to divert the passengeragent's attention. Miss Beaswicke confirmed the hope with her secondspoonful of soup by asking Brockway what he thought of Tourguenief.

  Now, to the passenger agent, the great Russian novelist was as yet nomore than a name, and he said so frankly and took no shame therefore.Whereupon Mr. Vennor:

  "Oh, come, Priscilla; you mustn't begin on Mr. Brockway like that. Ifancy he has had scant time to dabble in your little intellectual fads."

  Gertrude looked up quickly, and the keen sense of justice began toassert itself. Having escaped the pillory in his character of artisan,the passenger agent was to be held up to ridicule in his proper person.Not if she could help it, Gertrude promised herself; and she turnedsuddenly upon the collegian.

  "What do you think of Tourguenief, Cousin Chester?" she asked, amiably.

  "A good bit less than nothing," answered the athlete, with his eyes inhis plate. "What is there about him that we ought to know and don't?"

  "Tell us, Priscilla," said Gertrude, passing the query along.

  But the elder Miss Beaswicke refused to enlighten anyone. "Go and gethis book and read it, as I did," she said.

  "I sha'n't for one," Fleetwell declared. "I can't read the original, andI won't read a translation."

  "Have you read him in the original, Priscilla?" Gertrude inquired,determined to push the subject so far afield that it could never getback.

  "Oh, hush!" said the elder Miss Beaswicke. "What is the matter with youtwo. I refuse positively to be quarrelled with."

  That ended the Russian divagation, and it had the effect of making thetable-talk impersonal. This was precisely what Mr. Vennor desired. Whathe meant to do was to set a conversational pace which would showGertrude that Brockway was hopelessly out of his element in her ownsocial sphere.

  The plan succeeded admirably. So far as the social aspect of the mealwas concerned, the passenger agent might as well have been dining at thetable of the Olympians. Art, literature, Daudet's latest book, andHenriette Ronner's latest group of cats, the decorative designs in theBoston Public Library, and the renaissance of Buddhism in the nineteenthcentury--before these topics Brockway went hopelessly dumb. And not onceduring the hour was Mrs. Dunham or Gertrude permitted to help him,though they both tried with charitable and praiseworthy perseverance, asthus:

  _Mrs. Dunham_, in a desperate effort to ignore the Public Library: "I'mafraid all this doesn't interest you very much, Mr. Brockway. It's sofatally easy----"

  _Fleetwell_, whose opinion touching a portion of the design has beencontravened by Mr. Vennor: "I say, Cousin Jeannette, isn't the Sargentdecoration for the staircase hall--" _et sequentia_, until Brockwaysinks back into oblivion to come to the surface ten minutes later at asummons from the other side.

  _Gertrude_, purposely losing the thread of Priscilla Beaswicke's remarkson the claims of theosophy to an unprejudiced hearing: "What makes youso quiet, Mr. Brockway? Tell me about your other adventures with theschool-teachers--after you left Salt Lake City, you know."

  _Brockway_, catching at the friendly straw with hope once more reviving:"Then you haven't forgotten--excuse me; Miss Beaswicke is speaking toyou." And the door shuts in his face and leaves him again in outerdarkness.

  In the nature of things mundane, even the most leisurely dinner cannotlast forever. Brockway's ordeal came to an end with the black coffee,and when he was free he would have vanished quickly if Gertrude had notdetained him.

  "You are not going to leave us at once, are you?" she protested.

  "I--I think I'd better go back to my 'ancients and invalids,' if you'llexcuse me."

  Gertrude was conscience-stricken, and her hospitable angel upbraided herfor having given her guest an unthankful meal. Wherefore she sought tomake amends.

  "Don't go just yet unless you are obliged to," she pleaded. "Sit downand tell me about the schoolma'ams. How far did you go with them?"

  "I had to make the whole blessed circuit," he said, tarrying willinglyenough.

  "Do you often have such deliciously irresponsible people to convoy?"

  "Not often; but the regular people usually make up for it in--well, incantankerousness; that's about the only word that will fit it." Brockwaywas thinking of the exacting majority in the Tadmor.

  "And yet it doesn't make you misanthropic? I should think it would. Whatplace is this we are coming to?"

  "Carvalho--the supper station."

  Gertrude saw her father coming toward them; she guessed his purpose andresented it. If she chose to make kindly amends to the passenger agentfor his sorry dinner, she would not be prevented.

  "We stop here a little while, don't we?" she asked of Brockway.

  "Yes; twenty minutes or more. Would you like to go out for a breath offresh air?" She had risen and caught up her wrap and hat.

  "I should; it is just what I was going to propose. Cousin Jeannette, I'mgoing to walk on the platform with Mr. Brockway. Come," she said; andthey escaped before Mr. Vennor could overtake them.

  Once outside, they paced up and down under the windows of the train,chatting reminiscently of four bright days a year agone, and shunningthe intervening period as two people will whose lives have met andtouched and gone apart again. At the second turn, they met Mrs. Dunhamand Fleetwell; and at the third, the President, sandwiched betweenHannah and Priscilla Beaswicke. Whereupon Brockway, scenting espionage,drew Gertrude away toward the engine.

  The great, black bulk of the heavy ten-wheeler loomed portentous, andthe smoky flare of the engineer's torch, as he thrust it into themachinery to guide the snout of his oil-can, threw the overhanging massof iron and steel into sombre relief.

  Brockway shaded his eyes under his hand and peered up at the numberbeneath the cab window. "The new 926," he said; "we'll get back some ofour lost time behind her."

  "Do you know them all by name?" Gertrude queried.

  "Oh, no; not all."

  "I suppose you've ridden on them many times?"

  Brockway laughed. "I should say I had--on both sides, as the enginemensay."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It's slang for firing and driving; I've done a little of both, youknow."

  "I didn't know it. Isn't it terribly dangerous? When anything happens,the men on the engine are almost always killed, aren't they?"

  "When they are it's because they haven't time to save themselves. It'sall nonsense--newspaper nonsense, mostly--about the engineer sticking tohis post like the boy on the burning deck. A man can do whatever thereis to be done toward stopping his train while you could count ten, andno amount of heroism could accomplish any more."

  "I have often thought I should like to ride on an engine," Gertrudesaid.

  "I wish I had known it earlier in the day; your wish might have beengratified very easily."

  "Might it? I suppose they never let any one ride on the night engines,do they?"

  Brockway caught his breath. "Do you mean--would you trust me to take youon the engine to-night?" he asked, wondering if he had heard aright.

  "Why not?" she said, with sweet gravity.

  The engineer had oiled his way around to their side, and Brockway spoketo him.

  "Good-evening, Mac," he said; and the man turned and held up his torch.

  "Hello, Fred," he began; and then, seeing Gertrude: "Excuse _me_, Ididn't see the lady."

  At a sign from Gertrude, Brockway introduced the engineer. "Miss Vennor,this is Mr. Maclure--one of our oldest runners."

  "I'm very glad to know you, Mr. Maclure," said Gertrude, sweetly; andthe man of machinery scraped his feet and salaamed.

  "Mac, Miss Vennor thinks she would like to take a night spin on the 926.May we ride a little way with you?"

  "Well
, I should say!" assented Maclure. "Just pile in and makeyourselves at home; and excuse _me_--I hain't quite got through oilin''round yet."

  "Thank you," said Brockway; then to Gertrude: "We must find your fatheror Mrs. Dunham quick; we haven't more than a minute or two."

  They ran back and fortunately came upon Mrs. Dunham and the collegian.

  "Cousin Jeannette, I'm going to ride on the engine with Mr. Brockway,"Gertrude explained, breathlessly. "Don't say I sha'n't, for I will. It'sthe chance of a lifetime. Good-by; and don't sit up for me."

  "I'll take good care of her," Brockway put in; and before the astonishedlady could expostulate or approve, they were scudding forward to the926.