Following the others who were going on the same train, Bob made his way to the cars.
Mindful of his recent resolution and the unpleasant experience with the porter of the parlor car, Bob scrutinized each coach of the train carefully as he walked along until he came to one that was obviously a chair car, and this he entered, selecting a seat well in the middle.
Eager as Bob was to reach his destination, it seemed to him that they would never start, but when at last the wheels began to squeak as the train got in motion, he gave vent to a sigh of delight.
Of the people about him, he took only passing notice, and busied himself with trying to map out a plan of action after he reached Fairfax.
When the conductor came along collecting the tickets, Bob proudly drew forth his pass and presented it. As though unable to reconcile the bit of paper with the poorly-clad boy, the conductor scrutinized the official transportation closely, from time to time glancing at Bob.
Unable satisfactorily to solve the incongruity, the official muttered:
"The pass is all right, but it doesn't seem right for this boy to have it."
This voicing of the thoughts, which were evidently passing through the conductor's mind,
