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Updated: June 23, 2025
The name of the station was called at the other end of the car, a name quite unlike that of "Harrowtown," but his dull ears did not notice it. He got off upon the platform, and before he could recover himself or knew his error, the train was again in motion. Albert was in ecstasies over the success of his "joke," and shook all over with laughter, in which, of course, his companion joined.
I'm getting old and clumsy, and a little help from a young hand comes timely. Where are you going, if I may ask?" "To Harrowtown, sir. I saw an advertisement for a boy in a store, and I'm going to try to get the situation. My name is Lyman Dean." "Ah? I'm sure I wish you success, Lyman, for I believe you're a good boy. You are going to the same place I am.
I want to find Aaron Harrington, but I've had two mishaps. I don't know what's coming next." "I'll show you right where his office is. I've been in Harrowtown a good many times." Half an hour later, the brakeman shouted the name of the station where they must stop. Lyman assisted Mr. Randal off the train, and walked with him to the principal street. "Here's Mr. Harrington's office," said he.
Conductor, will you kindly tell me when to get out? I've never been to Harrowtown, and I don't want to stop at the wrong place." "Give yourself no uneasiness," was the polite reply, "I'll let you know; I will not forget you." Soothed by this assurance, the old man settled back in his seat and finally went to sleep. In the seat behind him sat a tall, handsome boy. His name was Albert Gregory.
I took an interest in him when he was a poor boy; perhaps he will advise and help us, now that we are in trouble." At last, since he felt that he must go, Mrs. Randal reluctantly consented, and fitted him out for the journey with great care. The next morning was warm and sunny for November, and the old man started for Harrowtown. "Gideon," called Mrs.
Ha, ha! Do you suppose he has found out where Harrowtown is? Oh, but wasn't it rich to see how scared he was when I awoke him? And how he jumped and scrambled out of the car! 'Pon my word, I never saw anything so comical." Here the stranger turned again and shot another quick glance, this time from indignant eyes, and his lips parted as if about to utter a stern reproof. But he did not speak.
Daylight faded, and the lamps were lighted in the cars, and still the old man slept, watched by his purposed tormentor and the other boy, who wanted to see "the fun." At last the speed of the train began to slacken. They were nearing a station. Albert sprang up and shook Mr. Randal violently. "Wake up! wake up!" he called sharply. "This is Harrowtown. You must get off here!"
It may be he will pity two old people, and allow us better terms." "But husband, you are not used to traveling; Harrowtown is a hundred miles away, and you are old and feeble too." "True, wife; but I can talk much better than I can write, and besides, Luke Conway lives there, you remember.
We will now leave Albert and his fellow-travelers, and follow good Gideon Randal. It was quite dark when he stepped from the cars. "Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Aaron Harrington?" he inquired of a man at the station. "There's no such man living here, to my knowledge," was the reply. "What, isn't this Harrowtown?" asked Mr. Randal, in great consternation. "No, it is Whipple Village."
Thus roughly roused, the old man started from his seat and gazed around in a bewildered way. The change from daylight to darkness, the unaccustomed awakening on a moving train, and the glare of the lights added tenfold to his confusion. "Wh what did you say, boy?" he asked helplessly. "This is Harrowtown. The place where you want to stop. You must get off. Be quick, or you'll be carried by."
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