At the end of the file Irene noticed a gentleman, clad in a
perfectly-fitting rough traveling suit, with the inevitable crocodile
hand-bag and tightly-rolled umbrella, who made no effort to enroll ahead
of any one else, but having procured some letters from the post-office
clerk, patiently waited till the rest were turned away, and then put down
his name. He might as well have written it in his hat. The deliberation
of the man, who appeared to be an old traveler, though probably not more
than thirty years of age, attracted Irene's attention, and she could not
help hearing the dialogue that followed.

"What can you do for me?"

"Nothing," said the clerk.

"Can't you stow me away anywhere? It is Saturday, and very inconvenient
for me to go any farther."

"Cannot help that. We haven't an inch of room."

"Well, where can I go?"

"You can go to Baltimore. You can go to Washington; or you can go to
Richmond this afternoon. You can go anywhere."

"Couldn't I," said the stranger, with the same deliberation--"wouldn't
you let me go to Charleston?"

"Why," said the clerk, a little surprised, but disposed to accommodate
--"why, yes, you can go to Charleston. If you take at once the boat you