The man whose hand Laddie had taken hold of in the crowd, thinking it was
his father's, looked down at the little fellow and smiled. And when Laddie
saw the smile he felt better.

"What was it you were asking me, little boy?" the man kindly inquired.

"I was--I was asking you a riddle," said Laddie.

"What about?" the man wanted to know.

"It was about a conductor punching tickets on the train," said Laddie.
"But I don't know the answer."

"First, what is the question?" the man inquired, still smiling.

"It's why don't the tickets get mad when the conductor punches 'em?"
Laddie repeated.

"Hum," mused the man. "I don't believe that I know the answer to that
riddle. Did you think I did?"

"Well, I--I didn't know," said Laddie slowly. "Nobody seems to know the
answer to that riddle. But, you see, I thought you were my father when I
took hold of your hand."

"Oh, you did!" and the man laughed and gave Laddie's hand a gentle
squeeze. "Well, I thought you were my little boy, for a moment. But then I
happened to think that he is away down in New York City, so, you see, it