thin cloak about him and watched the snow squadrons wind-driven and the
big flakes blurring his view as they melted on the panes. By and by, two
giggling young women near by made comments on his looks and dress.
Fragments of their talk he overheard. It was not quite pleasant. "Law!
ain't he got curly hair, and ain't he just like a girl doll," and so on
in the lawless freedom of democratic feminine speech. The flat Morocco
cap and large visor of the French schoolboy and the dark blue cloak with
the silver clasp were subjects of comment. One of them offered peanuts or
sugar-plums, which he declined with "Much obliged, but I never take
them." Now and then he consulted his watch or felt in his pocket to be
certain that his baggage-check was secure, or looked to see if the little
bag of toilet articles at his feet was safe. The kindly attentions of
those who noticed his evident discomfort were neither mannerless nor, as
he thought, impertinent. A woman said to him that he seemed cold,
wouldn't he put around him a shawl she laid on his knees. He declined it
civilly with thanks. In fact, he was thinly and quite too lightly clad,
and he not only felt the cold, but was unhappy and utterly unprepared by
any previous experience for the mode of travel, the crowded car and the
rough kindness of the people, who liking his curly hair and refined young
childlike face would have been of service if he had accepted their
advances with any pleasure. Presently, after four in the afternoon, the
brakeman called "All out for Westways Crossing."

John seized his bag and was at the exit-door before the train came to a
stand. The conductor bade him be careful, as the steps were slippery. As
the engine snorted and the train moved away, the conductor cried out,
"Forgot your cane, sonny," and threw the light gold-mounted bamboo from
the car. He had a new sense of loneliness as he stood on the roofless
platform, half a foot deep in gathering snow, which driven by a pitiless
gale from the north blew his cloak about as he looked to see that his