The conductor turned towards Philip, and coolly and deliberately surveyed him from head to foot, with contempt in every line of his face, turned his back upon him without a word, and said to the lady,

“Come, I’ve got no time to talk.  You must go now.”

The lady, entirely disconcerted by such rudeness, and frightened, moved towards the door, opened it and stepped out.  The train was swinging along at a rapid rate, jarring from side to side; the step was a long one between the cars and there was no protecting grating.  The lady attempted it, but lost her balance, in the wind and the motion of the car, and fell!  She would inevitably have gone down under the wheels, if Philip, who had swiftly followed her, had not caught her arm and drawn her up.  He then assisted her across, found her a seat, received her bewildered thanks, and returned to his car.

The conductor was still there, taking his tickets, and growling something about imposition.  Philip marched up to him, and burst out with,

“You are a brute, an infernal brute, to treat a woman that way.”

“Perhaps you’d like to make a fuss about it,” sneered the conductor.

Philip’s reply was a blow, given so suddenly and planted so squarely in the conductor’s face, that it sent him reeling over a fat passenger, who was looking up in mild wonder that any one should dare to dispute with a conductor, and against the side of the car.

He recovered himself, reached the bell rope, “Damn you, I’ll learn you,” stepped to the door and called a couple of brakemen, and then, as the speed slackened; roared out,

“Get off this train.”

“I shall not get off.  I have as much right here as you.”

“We’ll see,” said the conductor, advancing with the brakemen.  The passengers protested, and some of them said to each other, “That’s too bad,” as they always do in such cases, but none of them offered to take a hand with Philip.  The men seized him, wrenched him from his seat, dragged him along the aisle, tearing his clothes, thrust him from the car, and, then flung his carpet-bag, overcoat and umbrella after him.  And the train went on.

The conductor, red in the face and puffing from his exertion, swaggered through the car, muttering “Puppy, I’ll learn him.”  The passengers, when he had gone, were loud in their indignation, and talked about signing a protest, but they did nothing more than talk.

The next morning the Hooverville Patriot and Clarion had this “item":—­

SLIGHTUALLY overboard.

“We learn that as the down noon express was leaving H——­ yesterday a lady! (God save the mark) attempted to force herself into the already full palatial car.  Conductor Slum, who is too old a bird to be caught with chaff, courteously informed her that the car was full, and when she insisted on remaining, he persuaded her to go into the car where she belonged.  Thereupon a young sprig, from the