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Show s'j Hearts by Freight j By ELEANOR WILLIAMS YOUMANS a! : Copyrltht, 1910, by Associated Literary Press. 5 "Really. yu must not walk with i! oe Mr. Cunningham. You know the penalty." ; -What! After trailing you all the ay from the campus? After hanging hang-ing about for two houra waiting for you to come out of that house? What ? kept you so long in there?" ' "My graduating gown. I was hav- '" int fitting. But, Mr. Cunningham, th hour Is too late for " 5 "Now, see here. Miss Ferris, lfi 8 too late for a girl to go alone past ' those freight yards It's not safe even ! arly In the evening with hobos com-1 com-1 lng in on every train. I'll drop be-! be-! hind ai toon as we're past. If It will ! please you; but you needn't worry, for this Is the night of Stuffy's faculty fac-ulty spread. Everybody's there from Preiy to Brainy Bowers." "Why do you boy9 call some of the ! professors such horrid names?" L "Who, Stuffeldt and Bowers? Why,' ? they Uke It. Sure, they do. I can J prove it You remember " f "Sh-h-h, I hear some one." "I don't" ; "Hush, they're there, on the other side of that car no, this one. Perhaps Per-haps It's tramps. Oh, Mr. Cunningham, Cunning-ham, It sounds like Oh, mercy! "It Is! Prexy, or I'm a goat! Well, Til be " From beyond a box car on their right came distinctly. In nervous accents, ac-cents, the words: "I suggest that we wait, Prof. Bow-U Bow-U ers; that engine is approaching with f considerable speed." "Come on across. Dr. Cramer," answered an-swered a second voice; "plenty of time." "Heavens, they're coming around on this side." Cunningham suddenly real-lied real-lied the brilliancy of the moonlight. Recognition would be certain. "Here,", be whispered In desperation, "climb in here, quick!" Laying vigorous hold of the girl he swung her up to the open door of the ' "Poor Little Girl," He Muttered. empty car, whither he speedily followed. fol-lowed. Creeping noiselessly Into the shadow, shad-ow, they waited, fearing to breathe. From an engine somewhere in the yard issued loud, leisurely grunts. Presently Dr. Cramer spoke again, this time within a foot of the door of their hiding place. . "If you do not mind, Prof. Bowers," he said, "I should like to wait and watch them pick up this car." Cunningham arose to take an Investigating In-vestigating peep to see what car was meant when there wa3 a terrific crash, and, lying prone upon his face, he knew. Scrambling up, he groped about in the gloom for the girl. The car had begun to move rapidly by the time he had found her and raised her , to her feet. Grasping her arm, he started toward the door when a second sec-ond collision, harder, it seemed, than the first, brought them groveling to the hard, gritty floor. A second time Cunningham, like truth, arose; but with extreme caution. cau-tion. Getting upon his knees, he reached forth his hands for his companion. com-panion. She was quite near and trembling trem-bling violently. The motion of the car grew slower and finally stopped. "Come," he urged, getting to his feet and trying to lift her. "We can fet out now." "I'm afraid!" she cried, making no tffort to rise. The next moment the :ar Jerked dizzily, and, with loud banking and rattle, began Jolting lowly over the rails. "We must Jump!" he shouted above the noise, dragging her to the door. "No!" she screamed, terrified, "I'm afraid!" Tearing herself from his grasp, sha sank down in the patch of moonlight that shone In through the open doorway door-way and burled her face In her lap. Cunningham's impulse was to drop her to the ground by main force; but when he lay hold upon her shaking smoulders what he actually did was to drop cross-legged beside her and lift her golden, curly head until It rested upon his shoulder, holding It there while the train continued to gain speed and the complaining rattle and clank grew Into a furious roar. "Poor little girl," he muttered remorsefully. re-morsefully. "What an awful scrap I've got you Into." He. knew that she could not hear him In the midst of that hideous din, but as If In mute testimony to his words, she held up two small palms, scratched and bleeding. "Oh, my darling!" In his pain and regret the words slipped out unheeded. unheed-ed. Finding a handkerchief, he tore it in strips and awkwardly wound the pieces about her hands. Then, there being no other way to secure the bandages, he laid one palm upon the other and held them so. During this operation it was necessary for Miss Ferris to sit up in the Jolting, swaying sway-ing car unsupported, but when, upon finishing the task, Cunningham again slipped his arm about her shoulders and drew her head to its former position, posi-tion, she made no resistance. A wonderful Idea occurred to him. A blazing, beautiful Idea. "Sylvia," he stammered, as rapidly as the beating of his heart would permit, per-mit, "there's a Jolly good way out of this for us if you If you'll marry me." He trembled before his own audacity and rested his burning creek an instant against the cool softness ot her hair, forgetting the road that reduced re-duced his words to mere, fluttering breaths. Sylvia lifted her head; Cunningham saw her lips moving and bent till her lashes swept his face, but still he doubted that he heard aright "What is that awful smell?" she repeated, finally making herself audible. audi-ble. "Phosphate!" he shouted In answer, relieving his discomfiture by strength of lung. "It's fertilizer!" The train stopped sooner than he had expected, but at a lonely water tank without visible light or habitation. habita-tion. "No escape here," he reported, looking look-ing down the pebbly slope of an embankment em-bankment which fell away from the door of their prison full thirty feet "Oh, dear, that horrible odor," sighed sigh-ed the girl. Cunningham struck a match. The car was empty but for themselves and the smell of the fertilizer which enveloped en-veloped the air like a loathsome, suffocating suf-focating blanket "How can we ever explain?" she lamented. Cunningham saw his opening and rushed in. "There's only one thing to do," he remarked in an elaborately matter-of-fact tone, "and that Is to get married." "What?" Sylvia's voice rose to a high note of astonishment "Is it so distasteful to you?" he asked, affecting a coolness he did not feel. Then, reseating himself and taking tak-ing the bandaged hands: "I have been trying for two year3 to muster the courage to propose to you. You must have seen how hard hit I am." "You never said anything." "I'm saying it now; and you care a little, don't you, Sylvia? It's the best way." Sylvia neither answered nor shrank from his embrace. "I have no idea where this train is taking us," he continued, "but we shall come to a town before long, that's certain. cer-tain. Ministers and licenses are easily eas-ily found. You have no parents to consult, nor have I, and neither of us are a minor. After we're married we will come "back and tell Prexy all about It He'll stand for it, I think; he's a fine fellow," he finished stoutly. Sylvia began to cry, silently at first then a little harder. "We shall lose our diplomas, I Just know," she sobbed, snuggling her cheek against his vest pocket In a rather comfortable manner, nevertheless. neverthe-less. "What is a piece of old sheepskin, anyway," he challenged, "compared with our having each other?" "I don't know, Mr. Cunningham," very tremulously. "Call me 'Tom,' dear." "Tom," more tremulously still-then, still-then, with a nervous giggle, "dear." The locomotive, having drunk lt fill, now pounded on with loud, triumphant tri-umphant toots and sonorous puffs of exultation, bearing its blissful cargo into the golden unknown. |