"'Tain't in her day's work anyhow; Guv'mont oughter hand 'em over to her like a lady; it's rich enough and ugly enough." "'Tain't Guv'ment; it's that stage company's airs and graces," interrupted a newcomer.

"They think it mighty fine to go beltin' by, makin' everybody take their dust, just because STOPPIN' ain't in their contract.

Why, if that expressman who chucked down the bag had any feelin's for a lady"-- but he stopped here at the amused faces of his auditors.
"Guess you don't know much o' that expressman's feelin's, stranger," said Simmons grimly.

"Why, you oughter see him just nussin' that bag like a baby as he comes tearin' down the grade, and then rise up and sorter heave it to Mrs.Baker ez if it was a five-dollar bokay! His feelin's for her! Why, he's give himself so dead away to her that we're looking for him to forget what he's doin' next, and just come sailin' down hisself at her feet." Meanwhile, on the other side of the partition, Mrs.Baker had brushed the red dust from the padlocked bag, and removed what seemed to be a supplementary package attached to it by a wire.

Opening it she found a handsome scent-bottle, evidently a superadded gift from the devoted expressman.