The minutes passed and the hands on the clock further along the barrier crept nearer and nearer to the time set for the departure of the Brimfield accommodation.

Tom wondered when the next train after this one would leave.
"Going on this train, son ?" asked the gateman.
"Yes," answered Tom, and took a step toward the gate.

Then he stopped and shook his head.

"No, I guess not," he muttered.

"When does the next one go, sir ?" "Where to ?" asked the gateman, punching the ticket of a late arrival.
"Brimfield." "Four-twelve." The gate closed and the matter was irrevocably settled.
Tom took his bags and hurried back to the waiting-room and found his place again.