the pump, and scrubbed his face and hands heartily; wiping them on
his--well, he wiped them, and that is the main thing; besides, his
handkerchief had been reduced to a pulp in Gay's service. He combed his
hair, pulled up his stockings and tied his shoes neatly, buttoned his
jacket closely over his shirt, and was just pinning up the rent in his
hat, when Rags considerately brought another suggestion in the shape of
an old chicken-wing, with which he brushed every speck of dust from his
clothes. This done, and being no respecter of persons, he took the
family comb to Rags, who woke the echoes during the operation, and hoped
to the Lord that the squirrels would run slowly and that the field-mice
would be very tender, to pay him for this.

It was now nearly eight o'clock, and the party descended the hillside
and entered the side door of the station.

The day's work had long since begun, and there was the usual din and
uproar of railroad traffic. Trucks, laden high with boxes and barrels,
were being driven to the wide doors, and porters were thundering and
thumping and lurching the freight from one set of cars into another;
their primary objects being to make a racket and demolish raw material,
thereby increasing manufacture and export, but incidentally to load or
unload as much freight as possible in a given time.

Timothy entered, trundling his carriage, where Lady Gay sat enthroned
like a Murray Hill belle on a dog-cart, conscious pride of Sunday hat on
week-day morning exuding from every feature; and Rags followed close
behind, clean, but with a crushed spirit, which he could stimulate only
by the most seductive imaginations. No one molested them, for Timothy
was very careful not to get in any one's way. Finally, he drew up in
front of a high blackboard, on which the names of various way-stations