"I do," said Kent, simply. "If every complainant against us had the right to pack his own jury, we couldn't fare worse."
"What is at the bottom of it? Is it our pricking of the Gaston bubble by building on to the capital?"
"Oh, no; it's much more personal to these shouters. As you may, or may not, know, our line--like every other western railroad with no competition--has for its motto, 'All the tariff the traffic will stand,' and it bleeds the country accordingly. But we are forgetting your train. Shall we go and see how late it is?"
A MAN OF THE PEOPLE
Train Number Three, the Western Flyer, was late, as Kent had predicted--just how late the operator could not tell; and pending the chalking-up of its arriving time on the bulletin board, the two men sat on an empty baggage truck and smoked in companionable silence.
While they waited, Loring's thoughts were bus