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"Do you want to hire any men?" inquired Hurstwood. "What are you a motorman?" "No; I'm not anything," said Hurstwood. He was not at all abashed by his position. He knew these people needed men. If one didn't take him, another would. This man could take him or leave him, just as he chose. "Well, we prefer experienced men, of course," said the man. He paused, while Hurstwood smiled indifferently.
"But we don't want to lose him!" cried Freddie. "No, no!" said Flossie. "We want to keep him. He can run along behind the trolley car. I'll ask the motorman to go slow, papa." "My! This has been a mixedup day!" sighed Mr. Bobbsey. "I really don't know what to do." The dog seemed to think that he was one of the family, now. He came up to Flossie and Freddie and let them pat him.
"All we'll have to do will be to keep along the trolley track," said Bunny. "If we had my express wagon now, and a harness for Splash, he could pull us." "Oh, that would be fun!" Sue cried. "It would be just like a little trolley car of out own. You could be the motorman and I Would be the conductor." "We'll play that when we get home," her brother decided. "Oh, look!
The motorman eyed him with hostility now and again, as he dared to neglect his duty, but smiled uneasily in the face of the girl when she addressed him with an attempt at freedom. Bye and bye the youth took the empty seat by the side of the girl, and endeavored to draw her into conversation to the exclusion of the motorman.
In the walk through the woods, Queed found himself side by side with a fat, scarlet-faced man, who wore a vest with brass buttons and immediately began talking to him like a lifelong friend. He was a motorman on the suburban line, it seemed, and had known Fifi very well.
Van Truder, bundled up like a motorman, stood below shivering but with joy. "This is a great night for an affair of this kind," he quaked. "By George, I feel twenty years younger. I believe I could turn handsprings." "I wouldn't if I were you. Don't forget your somersault over that log back there, and your splendid headspin in the mud puddle. It's past nine o'clock.
"I can't quite tell myself; but I think it is the peace and the glory of it the spirit of the place." His eyes were on her face, and the car bumped over a stone. "There! That's because I was looking at you!" he laughed. "A motorman shouldn't gaze at a princess." She gave a little gurgling laugh; then she grew grave again.
"I see," remarked the tall gentleman in the frock coat and black slouch hat, "that another street car motorman in your city has narrowly excaped lynching at the hands of an infuriated mob by lighting a cigar and walking a couple of blocks down the street." "Do you think they would have lynched him?" asked the New Yorker, in the next seat of the ferry station, who was also waiting for the boat.
Again that derrick-grip, and they stood in the heart of the maelstrom, but apparently perfectly safe, unassailable. "They won't stop," Claire wailed plaintively. "I've been waiting for ages. The car'll go by! You see if it won't!" It did, indeed, seem on the point of sliding past, as all the rest had done, but of a sudden the motorman vehemently shut off his power, and put on his brake.
An elderly lady with a closed umbrella, for example, desiring to take a street car, should always stand directly under a large sign marked "Street Cars Do Not Stop On This Corner." As the car approaches she should run quickly out to the car tracks and signal violently to the motorman with the umbrella.
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