pictures of the trained seals, the great elephant act,
Mademoiselle Picotte doing her great tight-rope dance, and the
Brothers Borodini in their pyramid tumbling.

Yes, it was a whole vaudeville show, with refreshments between
the acts, that I was taking up to Tom Dorgan. I don't care much
for a lot of that truck--funny, isn't it, how you get to turn up
your nose at the things you'd have given a finger for once upon a
time? But Tom--oh, I'd got everything pat for him--my big,
handsome Tom Dorgan in stripes--with his curls all shaved
off--ugh!

I'd got just so far in my thoughts, sitting there in the train,
when I gave a shiver. I thought for a minute it was at the idea
of my Tom with one of those bare, round convict-heads on him,
that look like fat skeleton faces. But it wasn't. It was--

Guess, Mag.

Moriway.

Both of us thought the same thing of each other for the first
second that our eyes met. I could see that. He thought I was
caught at last. And I thought he'd been sharp once too often.

And, Mag, it would be hard to say which of us would have been
happier if it had been the truth. Oh, to meet Moriway, bound sure
enough for Sing Sing!

He got up and came over to me, smiling wickedly. Se took the seat