from No. 4 was distributed. With these exceptions the shops along
this mart of trade were tightly closed, including the Gashwiler
Emporium, at the blind front of which Merton now glanced with the
utmost distaste.

Such citizens as were yet abroad would be over at the depot to watch
No. 4 go through. Merton debated joining these sight-seers. Simsbury
was too small to be noticed by many trains. It sprawled along the
track as if it had been an afterthought of the railroad. Trains like
No. 4 were apt to dash relentlessly by it without slackening speed,
the mail bag being flung to the depot platform. But sometimes there
would be a passenger for Simsbury, and the proud train would slow
down and halt reluctantly, with a grinding of brakes, while the
passenger alighted. Then a good view of the train could be had; a
line of beautiful sleepers terminating in an observation car, its
rear platform guarded by a brass-topped railing behind which the
privileged lolled at ease; and up ahead a wonderful dining car,
where dinner was being served; flitting white-clad waiters, the
glitter of silver and crystal and damask, and favoured beings
feasting at their lordly ease, perhaps denying even a careless
glance at the pitiful hamlet outside, or at most looking out
impatient at the halt, or merely staring with incurious eyes while
awaiting their choice foods.

Not one of these enviable persons ever betrayed any interest in
Simsbury or its little group of citizens who daily gathered on the
platform to do them honour. Merton Gill used to fancy that these
people might shrewdly detect him to be out of place there--might
perhaps take him to be an alien city man awaiting a similar proud
train going the other way, standing, as he would, aloof from the