"Thank you; I may follow your advice."

The agent walked up the track and put out the semaphore lights, for the
sun was beginning to rise over the hills. By the time he came back a
colored porter stood on the platform of the private car and nodded to
him.

"Folks up yit?" asked Judkins.

"Dressing, seh."

"Goin' ter feed 'em in there?"

"Not dis mohnin'. Dey'll breakfas' at de hotel. Carriage here yit?"

"Not yit. I s'pose ol' Hucks'll drive over for 'em," said the agent.

"Dey's 'spectin' some one, seh. As fer me, I gotta live heah all day,
an' it makes me sick teh think of it."

"Heh!" retorted the agent, scornfully; "you won't git sick. You're too
well paid fer that."

The porter grinned, and just then a little old gentleman with a rosy,
cheery face pushed him aside and trotted down the steps.

"Mornin', Judkins!" he cried, and shook the agent's hand. "What a
glorious sunrise, and what crisp, delicious air! Ah, but it's good to be
in old Chazy County again!"