But the argus-eyed conductor soon spied him, and not recognizing him as a
ticket-holder, swooped down upon him at once.
"Your ticket, sir."
"The same to yersel', ma frien'!" was the courteous reply, thinking this
some new form of salutation.
"Here! no nonsense! where's your ticket? let's see where you're going."
"Weel, sir, I'm hopin' to get to Halifax some time 'fore long. We seem to
be gaun as the craws flee, so nae doot we'll soon get there. Does
this--er--buildin'--stop there for victuals or--or onythin'?"
The conductor, thinking him out of his mind, said more mildly:
"Who came with you? Who is looking after you aboard the cars?"
"Oh! a nice young chiel yonder; but he left me alane there, so I stepped
oot withoot his kennin' an' popped in here."
"Ah, yes; just so. I've no doubt there is a spare room in one of the public
institutions awaiting you. What sort of a looking man has you in charge?"
"Oh! he's a clever young chiel, wi' a door-plate on his bonnet; the sexton,
I tak' it."
Not making much out of this information, the conductor left him to make
inquiries ahead, tapping his forehead significantly to some passengers
near, who had overheard the conversation, and who, as soon as the conductor
was out of sight, began to question the "harmless lunatic.
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