THE BROOK 



STRIVING found himself obliged to take 

 a slow train. It left more than an hour 

 ahead of the limited, paid its respects at 

 each hamlet and finally crawled into New 

 York only fifteen minutes ahead of the limited 

 itself. But every minute was worth dollars and 

 cents to the oflSce. Striving was accustomed to 

 fast trains and hated slow ones, besides he was 

 not in a very amiable frame of mind. He felt 

 overworked, below par. 



"D — " Striving addressed the station porter 

 who carried his bag. 

 "Sah?" 



Striving regarded the man impersonally. "I'm 

 tired. I'm sick of it." 



"Yes, sah, what seat did you all have, sah?" 



"Seventeen," snapped Striving. 



The negro led the way, deposited the bag fussily 



and remained standing nearby with the usual 



air of anxious expectancy. His hopes gratified 



he expressed his thanks by a grinning display of 



57 



