Each time she had passed him she had brushed his elbow, scattering his checkers about.  Ordinarily sweet-tempered, Sydney was beginning to weary of this performance.

“What do you think?” snickered Bobby Littell.  “She takes a white tablet every five minutes.  Honest!  I’ve been watching her.  She sits there with her watch in her hand, and exactly five minutes apart—­I’ve timed her—­she starts for the water cooler.  She puts something on her tongue, swallows a glass of water, and comes back.”

“Well, somebody carry her a gallon jug,” muttered Sydney impatiently.  “I can’t get anywhere if she is going to parade up and down the aisle incessantly.”

“Don’t worry,” said Tommy Tucker soothingly.  “I’ll adjust this little matter for you.”

If Sydney had been less interested in his game, he might have felt slightly apprehensive.  The Tucker twins were famous for their “adjustments.”

Tommy went down the aisle and slipped into the seat directly back of the woman who did not approve of boys.  She turned and regarded him hostilely, but he gazed out at the flying landscape.  The moment she turned around, he ducked to the floor.

“What do you suppose he is doing?” whispered Bobby to Betty.  “Tommy can think up tricks faster than any boy I ever knew.”

Whatever Tommy was doing, he finished in a very few moments and sauntered back to the checker game, his eyes dancing.

Sydney and Winifred were absorbed in their game, and the others, with the exception of Bobby and Betty, had not noticed Tommy’s brief absence.

“Oh, look!” Betty clutched Bobby’s arm excitedly.  “What has happened to her?”

The woman, who had sat with her watch in her hand, snapped it shut, prepared to make another journey to the water cooler.  She half rose, an alarmed expression flitted over her face, and she sank into her seat again.  Tommy’s eyes were studiously on the checkerboard.

With one convulsive effort, the woman struggled to her feet, grasped the bell-cord and jerked it twice, then dropped into her seat and began to weep hysterically.

The brakes jarred down, and the train came to a sudden stop that sent many of the passengers m a mad scramble forward.

In a few moments the conductor flung open the car door angrily.  Behind him two anxious young brakesmen peered curiously.

“Anybody in here jerk that bellcord?” demanded the conductor, scowling.

“Certainly.  It was I,” said the elderly woman loftily.

“Oh, you did, eh?” he bristled, apparently unworried by her opinion.  “What did you do that for?  Here you’ve stopped a whole train.”

“I considered it necessary,” was the icy reply.  “Perhaps you will be good enough to call a doctor?”

“Are you ill?” the conductor’s voice changed perceptibly.  “I doubt if there is a doctor on the train, but I’ll see.”

“Tell him to hurry,” said the woman commandingly.  “I think I’m paralyzed.”