Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 January 1916 — A RAILROAD ROMANCE [ARTICLE]

A RAILROAD ROMANCE

By LOUISE OLIVER.

The little waiting room, with its egg stove aglow, was gratefully warm. But the oilcloth-covered counter was guiltless of food and the ticket office minus an occupant. Marian waited for someone td come, meanwhile watching the clock anxiously. Precious minutes were passing and still no one came to serve her. She was turning toward the door when the stranger lifted his hat. |“I beg your pardon, but as the agent doesn’t seem to be around just now, perhaps you .will permit me to hunt up a lunch for you. He may.hftve something hidden under the counter,” Marian turned to the door again. “Thank you, but «s the train will , leave in a minute I am afraid I must go. Good evening.” He hurried to the door and held it open for her. The storm had increased in violence, almost carrying Marian off her feet. Fine sleet cut into their faces. Hjb took her arm and together they fought their way across the platform through the storm. Then they stopped suddenly r aghast. The track ftas empty and the train gone! It had slipped away, its noise drowned by the screaming wind. “By George, that’s too bad!” he shouted into her ear, Marian was thankful now for the storm and darkness, for she could not keep back the tears any longer. There seemed to be nothing to do but to go back to the empty station, which offered protection at least from the storm. She might have to wait, some time for the next train. As they went into the little waiting room for the second time the fumes of tobacco notified the y-avelers that the agent had come in, evidently by some other way.

“Hello, Bob! Where on earth have you been?" asked Marian’s would-be benefactor. “While we were waiting for you to hunt us a bite to eat, the train vamoosed and left us.” Marian heard the other man whistle with surprise. "Then I am afraid you are up against it, Mr. Hays. There isn’t another train tonight!” Marian dropped limply to a seat. The inan went to the door and stepped outside to tell his idea of the whole business to the elements. In a few minutes he burst into the waiting room. “Bay, Bob, there’s a gasoline work oar down the track! Is she all right?” “I guess so. The men left her there on the sidiqg. Why, what were you thinking of? It’s, frozen over like a wedding cake.” *• “I was thinking,” said the man, “that as I know enough about them to run one, we might thaw off the icing with hot water and I could get this young lady to Drexel in time to catch the express. Any gasoline around the place, do you suppose?” "Why, there’s a bar! of gasoline back of the freight house. Been there all winter. But, say, there’s lots of freight trains. You’d get killed.” “No, we won’t!” By the time the little car was ready the wind had calmed, and Marian, wrapped to her ears in a borrowed robe, sat like a queen on the soap box the men Imd found for her. In a minute they were sliding alongr into the darkness, their lanterns illuminating the rails only a couple of feet ahead. Marian was frightened, but gave no sign. She would have risked her life on a war balloon to get to Brighton before twelve. The car sped on past little stations that were as quiet as cemeteries. No freights overtook them, and at last the lights of Drexel appeared. The man held his watch close to the lantern. “Good!” he cried. ‘Ten minutes and we’ll be on the express to Brighton.” There had been little opportunity tor conversation. In the waiting room at Drexel Marian tried to thank him. There were still two minutes before the train was due. "I wonder if you know how much I appreciate what you have done for me, Mr.—” "Hays! Endicott Hays!” “Mr. Hays! My name is Marian Langley, and it is absolutely necessary for me to be in Brighton today. It seems that all the heirs to the Langley estate are in danger of losing * great deal of money if I don’t have my name on some stupid paper or other before midnight.” r Endicott Hays looked at her in astonishment for an instant. Then, drawing a paper from his pocket, he cried: “And this is the stupid paper. I was going to Brighton to find you. I’m the lawyer in the case. They told me you lived there!” “And after they had discovered their mistake, .they telegraphed me to meet you there, as you had already departed,” laughed Marian. “Isn’t it toofunny?” * y'% The man’s answer was drowned in the noise of the express as it thundered in. But his look held inquiry. "I’d better get on anyway and go to Aunt Martha’s for the night,” said Marian. j“And I’d better go to Brighton, too, 50 I can come around in the morning and be properly introduced. May IT* “Perfectly splendid.” agreed Marian, as they boarded the train for the remainder of the trip. (Copyright. 1315. by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Emeralds are worth more a karat than any other precioua gems. .