# Cupid En Route/Chapter 8
### VIII

THE Pullman conductor entered, diagrams in hand, and seated himself opposite. Wade watched him compare and erase and alter and tried to decided whether to leave the train at the first stop or to remain on it. If he got off and returned to Boston he wouldn't be any better off than he was now. No, the only thing to do was to get to Quebec as best he could and trust to finding the Girl there. Luckily Quebec wasn't very big and it would be difficult for Prue—he had begun to call her that in his thoughts—to escape discovery. He wondered about that other train; it was strange that he had seen no mention of it in the guide. Perhaps he had misunderstood and she was not going to Quebec after all!
"Conductor," he asked, "is there another ​train for Quebec leaving at eight-thirty or around there?"
The conductor made a last correction and slipped his pencil back.
"No, nothing until nine," he answered, looking up. "Aren't you the gentleman who wanted a berth?"
"Yes.".
"Thought so. Sorry there isn't anything. Travel's heavier tonight than I've seen it for months. Everybody's going home at once, it seems."
"Could I leave this train and get the nine o'clock anywhere along here?"
"Yes, at Lowell; 9:10. I don't know whether you could get anything on that or not, though. You might try it."
"When would I get to Quebec?"
"Well, if you made connection at Montreal you'd get there about three tomorrow," Wade glanced at his watch.
"I believe I'll try it," he muttered.
"If this snow keeps up, though," continued the conductor, "we are both likely ​to be late." He leaned forward and looked out of the window. "It's coming hard now. And there's about four inches of it on the level up North already. Well!" He got up briskly and moved toward the door. "You can sit in here, sir, until the porter gets ready to make up these berths. Those day coaches are pretty crowded."
"Thank you," answered Wade, "but I guess I'll try my luck on the other train. I had luck the last time I changed," he added to himself, "and maybe I will again."
When the train slowed down at Lowell he was ready with his bag and the package of luncheon. His appetite seemed to have disappeared, but he thought it wise to hold on to the luncheon until he was certain it wouldn't be needed. It was probable, however, that he could get a cup of coffee and some refreshment here at the station; as the next train wouldn't come along for a half hour he would have plenty of time. In answer to that reflection a coffee urn gleamed a welcome to him through a ​window as he alighted. He dodged the waiting passengers on the platform and made for he lunch room. But in the doorway something impelled a backward look at the train he had left. His gaze idly swept along the line of lighted windows. Here and there some were already dark, showing that the porter was busy making up.
"All abo-oard!"
The train started, the wheels crunching on the snowy rails, and the first sleeper moved slowly by in front of him. Then came the second and a broad window flashed into sight, and Wade, across the platform, found himself looking into a drawing-room and in the drawing-room sat four persons, one of whom was gazing longingly out at the gleaming coffee urn!
Wade's heart leaped into his throat, and the next instant he was racing along the wet platform in pursuit of the front vestibule of that last sleeper. He collided violently with a stout woman and caromed off her into a baggage-man who swore luridly until ​long after Wade had clambered onto the steps and had disappeared in the darkness It was the Pullman conductor who responded to Wade's pounding on the door.
"Hello!" he said as he helped him through. "Thought you'd left us."
"I changed my mind. Thanks." He made his way back to the day coach ahead and found that two French Canadians had taken the seat he had abandoned. There was nothing left save the small seat behind the door, but he didn't care. He had found the Girl! He put his bag in a vacant rack and then turned his attention to the contents of the paper package. He had almost lost it from under his arm in that wild dash for the train, but save that the sandwiches were slightly squashed and an over-ripe banana had done its worst it was still a perfectly good luncheon. There were twelve sandwiches, some of ham and some of chicken; three oranges, four bananas—one no longer worthy of consideration,—three apples and six slices of rather stale ​cake. Wade laid aside two sandwiches, an apple and a banana and returned the rest to the paper. It didn't make a very attractive package, he had to confess, but he didn't believe that the occupants of the drawing room were in a mood to be over critical. Package in hand, he went back to the second sleeper.
What an ass he had been not to have thought of the drawing-rooms! It had happened, however, that the door of each had been closed when he had made his search and their presence had never occurred to him. Well, all was well that ended well! The smoking room was crowded, so he put his head around the comer into the aisle and found the porter busy a few berths away. That worthy came at his call, and his frowns smoothed themselves away at sight of the dollar bill which Wade diplomatically exhibited.
"PACKAGE IN HAND, HE WENT BACK TO THE SECOND SLEEPER"
"Yes, sir, I understand." He grinned appreciatively. "I reckon they'll be mighty pleased to get it, sir. Young lady says she's most starved to death. Asked me could I get her something at Lowell, but there wasn't time." He tucked the money away under his jacket.
"Mind, now, don't let them get anything out of you."
"No, siree! I forgot what you look like already" And he went off up the aisle, package in hand, chuckling enjoyably.
Wade saw him knock on the drawing-room door and then he went back to his seat in the drafty day coach, took a sweater from his bag and rolled it up for a pillow, stretched himself out on his short couch, his legs draped picturesquely over the arm, drew his coat over him and prepared for slumber. ••••
​"Come."
"Yes'm. Gentleman says present this to you with his compliments." The porter held out the package with an air. Miss Pearse took it, turned it over curiously.
"Gentleman? What gentleman?"
"I dunno, ma'am. Just a gentleman. Said he reckoned you all was hungry, ma'am."
"Hungry? What—what is it?" She viewed the brown paper parcel distastefully.
"San'wiches an' fruit, he said."
"Oh, Auntie! Sandwiches!" cried Prue.
"Dandy!" exclaimed the boy. Even Leone, the maid, showed signs of interest.
"Impertinent!" said Miss Pearse. "The idea! A strange man! Tell him, porter, that—"
"We're very, very much obliged!" Prue seized the parcel and tore off the paper. "Oh, Gordon, they're ham! Think of ham sandwiches!"
"Honest? Gee, Prue, let's get at 'em! I'd rather have ham than any kind when I'm real hungry!"
​"But, my dear," said her aunt, "you mustn't eat that—that stuff! Why, it may be poisoned!"
"Nonsense, Auntie! And even if they are I'd rather die quickly of poison than starve to death lingeringly. Porter, bring a table and we'll have a feast. There's cake here, too, Gordon."
"And bananas! Say, Prue, who's your friend?"
"I wish I knew," she laughed. "Whoever he is, he's saved one life tonight. You sit there, Auntie, and—"
"Indeed, I shan't touch the awful things!" sniffed Miss Pearse. "And, what's more, I forbid you to."
"Aunt Mildred, you may forbid and forbid," laughed Prue, "but I'm certainly going to eat. Gordon dear, get some water in the glass. Leone, what do you want, chicken or ham?"
"It makes no matter," replied the maid, "I am so veree hongaree."
"It makes a lot of matter here," cried ​Gordon. "I want a ham, Prue, a big one, too. That's a rhyme. Gee, they're good! Who do you suppose sent 'em, Prue? Maybe it was that conductor. I saw him looking at you, sis!"
"Did you?" she laughed. "Auntie dear, try one of these? They're perfectly delicious."
Aunt Mildred viewed the proffered sandwich distrustfully.
"No, I shall take an orange."
"Oranges come later, for dessert," said Prue. "Sandwiches first. Please just try it."
"We-ell, I suppose we might as well all die together! Just a little piece of it, dear."
"No, all or none," said Prue firmly. "Think how you'd feel if you lingered on for an hour or so after the rest of us had gone!"
"Prue! You do say such awful things! I'll never be able to swallow this now!"
But she did, and followed it with a second and ate a whole orange. And in ten minutes ​there was nothing left of the banquet but crumbs and fruit peelings and the porter was summoned to remove the table. Prue tore a corner from the brown paper and sat down with a pencil in her hand.
"What are you going to do, sis?" asked Gordon with lively interest.
"Send a note of thanks, dear."
"Prue! Why, you don't know who he may be!" remonstrated her aunt.
"Who he is doesn't matter, Auntie. Please don't begin to be prudish just because you're back in New England. I thought I'd broken you of that, dear. Porter, is the gentleman who sent the things on this train?"
"Yes'm, I reckon he is."
"I say, porter," demanded Grordon, "was it the conductor?"
"I dunno, sir, whether it was or not."
"You don't know!" exclaimed Aunt Mildred sharply. "Do you mean to say you don't know your own conductor when you see him?"
​"Yes'm, I know it wasn't him. He might be a conductor, though.
"What did he look like?" asked Prue.
"I sorter forget, Miss. Didn't notice specially, Miss."
"Oh, then you wouldn't know him if you saw him again?"
"No, ma'am."
"I'm sorry because I wanted you to take this note to him."
The porter looked at the scrap of folded paper and rubbed his head reflectively.
"Well, Miss, you give it to me an' maybe I'd know him if I was to look mighty sharp."
Prue smiled.
"Very well, porter, you look sharp and refresh your memory. And if you should find him give him this. You may take the table away, please."
Wade was just slipping off into light slumber when the porter aroused him. He sat up and took the scrap of paper, leaning forward until the light fell on the penciled writing.
"The ladies present their compliments to their unknown benefactor and thank him most cordially.
"They thought he had missed the train."
Wade smiled blissfully and dove his hand into his pocket.
"Here you are, porter. And look here; you look after those ladies the best you know how; understand? If you don't, I'll just about lay you out!"
The porter grinned cheerfully as he dropped the coin in his pocket.
"Yes, sir, I hear you. I'll look after 'em, sir, don't you worry. Good night, sir. Sorry I can't have you in my car; this is mighty mean 'commodations for a gentleman."
The subtle accent on the word gentleman really merited further emolument, but Wade was eager to be left alone. When the porter had gone he re-read the note, looked at it from every angle, read it again, and then finally furtively pressed his lips to it and tucked it carefully away in his pocket-book. After that, curled up on his ​seat, with the drafts playing tag about him, he lay staring at the light overhead until long after midnight, contentment of mind more than equalizing bodily discomfort.