something like that."

"No-o, no, that wan't it this time. I--er--All tucked in and warm
enough, be you? Ye-es, yes, yes. No, I'm to blame, I shouldn't wonder. I
stopped at the--at the store a minute and met one or two of the fellers,
and that kind of held me up. All right now? Ye-es, yes, yes. G'long,
gal."

The buggy moved away from the platform. Its passenger, his chilly feet
and legs tightly wrapped in the robes, drew a breath of relief between
his chattering teeth. He was actually going somewhere at last; whatever
happened, morning would not find him propped frozen stiff against the
scarred and mangy clapboards of the South Harniss station.

"Warm enough, be you?" inquired his driver cheerfully.

"Yes, thank you."

"That's good, that's good, that's good. Ye-es, yes, yes.
Well--er--Frederick, how do you think you're goin' to like South
Harniss?"

The answer was rather non-committal. The boy replied that he had not
seen very much of it as yet. His companion seemed to find the statement
highly amusing. He chuckled and slapped his knee.

"Ain't seen much of it, eh? No-o, no, no. I guess you ain't, guess you
ain't. He, he, he . . . Um . . . Let's see, what was I talkin' about?"

"Why, nothing in particular, I think, Mr.--Mr.--"