Part 23 (1/2)

Sam had judged his time well. He had got a good piece of work advanced, and both trains well out of the way, just before the bell again intimated the approach of the limited mail. He replied, set the line free, booked the pa.s.sage of the goods train, and sat down once more to dinner, just as the door of his box opened and the pretty face of Gertie peeped in.

We are not sure that such a visit would be permitted in these days of stringent ”rules;” at that time they may not have been very particular as to visitors, or perhaps Gertie, being one of themselves, as it were, was privileged. Be this as it may, there she was with a laughing face.

”May I come in, Sam?”

”May a cherub from the skies come in--yes,” replied Sam, rising and lifting Gertie in his strong arms until he could print a kiss on her forehead without stooping. ”All well at home, Gertie?”

”Very well, thank you. We expect father home to tea.”

”I know that,” said Sam, sitting down at his small table and attempting dinner once again.

”How do you know that?” asked Gertie in surprise.

”'Cause I've got to pa.s.s him up wi' the express in half-an-hour,”

replied Sam, with his mouth full, ”and, of course, he don't prefer takin' tea on the _Lightenin'_ with his mate Bill Garvie, w'en he's got a chance o' takin' it wi' his wife and a little angel, like you.”

”I wish you'd not talk nonsense, Sam,” remonstrated Gertie with a serious look.

”That ain't nonsense,” said Sam, stoutly.

”Yes, it is,” said Gertie; ”you know angels are good.”

”Well, and ain't you good?” demanded the signalman, filling his mouth with a potato.

”Mother says I am, and I feel as if I was,” replied Gertie with much simplicity, ”but you know angels are _very_ _very_ good, and, of _course_, I'm not near so good as them.”

”You are,” said Sam, with an obstinate snap at a piece of meat; ”you're better than any of 'em. You only want wings to be complete.”

Gertie laughed, and then remarked that Sam dined late, to which Sam replied that he did, that he preferred it, and that he didn't see why gentlefolk should have that sort of fun all to themselves.

”What's that?” exclaimed Gertie, as Sam dropped his knife and fork, rang his electric bell, and laid hold of a lever.

”The limited mail, my dear,” said Sam, as the train rushed by.

”Oh, how it shakes the house! I wonder it don't fall,” exclaimed the child.

”It's made to be well shaken, like a bottle o' bad physic,” replied Sam, as he went through the various processes already described, before sitting down to finish his oft-interrupted meal.

”Do you always take your dinner in that uncomfortable way?” asked Gertie, sitting down on the chest and looking earnestly into the manly countenance of her friend.

”Mostly,” said Sam, at last finis.h.i.+ng off with a draught of pure water, and smacking his lips.

”Sometimes it's all I can do to get it eaten--other times I'm not so hard pressed, but it's never got over without interruption, more or less.”

”Are breakfast and tea as bad?”

”Not quite,” replied Sam with a laugh; ”about breakfast time the traffic ain't quite so fast and furious, and I takes tea at home.”

”How long are you here at a time?” asked the inquisitive Gertie.