Webster," the horse which draws it. Both are very ancient, sadly in need
of upholstery, and jerky of locomotion.

Gabe was, as usual, waiting at the station when the down train arrived,
on the Tuesday--or Wednesday--of the selectmen's meeting. The train was
due, according to the time-table, at eleven forty-five. This time-table,
and the signboard of the "Bayport Hotel" are the only bits of humorous
literature peculiar to our village, unless we add the political
editorials of the Bayport Breeze.

So, at eleven forty-five, Mr. Lumley was serenely dozing on the baggage
truck, which he had wheeled to the sunny side of the platform. At five
minutes past twelve, he yawned, stretched, and looked at his watch.
Then, rolling off the truck, he strolled to the edge of the platform and
spoke authoritatively to "Dan'l Webster."

"Hi there! stand still!" commanded Mr. Lumley.

Standing still being Dan'l's long suit, the order was obeyed. Gabe then
loafed to the door of the station and accosted the depot master, who was
nodding in his chair beside the telegraph instrument.

"Where is she now, Ed?" asked Mr. Lumley, referring to the train.

"Just left South Harniss. Be here pretty soon. What's your hurry?
Expectin' anybody?"

"Naw; nobody that I know of, special. Sophrony Hallett's gone to
Ostable, but she won't be back till to-morrow I cal'late. Hello! there
she whistles now."