"Redny" Blount, who drives the "depot wagon," was wrestling with a sample trunk belonging to the traveling representative of Messrs.

Braid & Gimp, of Boston, when he heard a voice--and such a voice--saying: "Pardon me, my dear sir, but may I trouble you for one moment ?" Now "Redny" was not used to being addressed as "my dear sir." He turned wonderingly, and saw the Major, in all his glory, standing beside him.
"Redny's" gaze took in the tall, slim figure in the frock coat tightly buttoned; took in the white hair, worn just long enough to touch the collar of the frock coat; the long, drooping white mustache and imperial; the old-fashioned stock and open collar; the black and white checked trousers; the gaiters; and, last of all, the flat brimmed, carefully brushed, old-fashioned silk hat.

Mr.Blount gasped.
"Huh ?" he said.
"Pardon me, my dear sir," repeated the Major, blandly, smoothly, and with an air of--well, not condescension, but gracious familiarity.

"Will you be so extremely kind as to inform me concerning the most direct route to the hotel or boarding house ?" The word "hotel" was the only part of this speech that struck home to "Redny's" awed mind.
"Hotel ?" he repeated, slowly.

"Why, yes, sir.