h as the train pulled out. He was very black, and very dusty, and
single occupants of seats looked apprehensive as he shuffled along looking
for a seat. But he did not offer to intrude, but stood at the end of the
car, looking with big wondering eyes down the car. He was evidently very
tired. Then a young man offered him space in his seat, for which he seemed
very grateful, and with child-like simplicity began talking.

He was going back home "to Georgy"; had been up in Virginia for years with
the rare old slave loyalty serving his old master between times, while
earning his own way. Now his master was dead and he was going back down to
the old home state, "back to Georgy," and the words came softly, while his
hand tenderly patted the seat cushion. Clearly Georgia was the acme of
happiness and content for him. As the train boy came through, the young
man bought some sandwiches for the old negro. He was very grateful. Yes,
he _was_ hungry, and had walked several miles to get the train. He
couldn't spend money for "victuals"; "money's too skase fur buying things
on the road," he said, "I was 'lowin' ter fill up arter I done reach
Georgy."

Then the conductor came in for tickets. The black man anxiously fumbled
through one pocket after another, and finally remembered that his ticket
was pinned to the lining of his hat. "Done tuk ebery cent I could scrape
up to get dat ticket," he said, "but dat's all right. I kin wuk, an' fo'ks
don' need money when dey's home." The conductor had passed on to the next
seat behind. There sat a shabbily dressed woman, with anxious,
frightened-looking face, the seat full of bundles and a pale-faced baby in
arms.

"Tickets, please."

The woman's face flushed red, and then grew white and set, as she said, "I
haven't any."

"Have to get off then; save me the trouble of putting you off."

The woman sprang up with terror in her big eyes, "Don't put me off; my
husband's dying; the doctor said he must go South; we've sold everything
left to send him; now he's dying; I must go to him. But I have no money,
don't put me off. My God--my God--if you--" Her plea poured out in
excited, jerky sentences. But the conductor could do nothing. He must obey
his instructions, or be discharged. The woman sank back sobbing, in the
seat. The conductor turned back to get the old negro's ticket.

"I'se feared you'll have to put _me_ off, boss," he said humbly, "don't
expect a pore ole nigger like me to raise enuf