Fletcher cautioned. But he was beyond
earshot, best umbrella and all, before the words were out of her mouth.

Down the water-glazed street he ran, its dust now laid by the
refreshing, pounding torrent, past the barrier of the railroad ticket
office, thanks to the friendly agent, and up the worn steps to the
station platform. Other boys were there, each with two or three
umbrellas, who viewed the newcomer with disfavor. Ere long, each
suburban train from town would discharge its quota of daintily dressed
shoppers, pallid office clerks and stenographers and prosperous business
men. Not one of them would carry protection from the soaking rain, and
competition between the juvenile vendors threatened to become acute.

A lean, light suburban engine pulled in amid a cloud of escaping steam
and a hissing of airbrakes. John spied a tall slender woman in a car
doorway arranging a paper over her hat, and raced along beside the
platform until it came to a halt.

"Umbrella home, lady?"

She nodded. "To the hotel."

Behind her loomed a tall, slightly bowed, black-haired lawyer whom John
had seen on the long, wooden veranda of that substitute for home more
times than he could count on his ten fingers. He, too, took advantage of
a rented shelter. Together the couple made their way down the dripping
steps while John followed exultantly. Two at once--and the hotel but a
scant block and a half away! At the broad entrance, they paused.

"How much do I owe you, little boy?" asked the lady, with a smile.

"Dime," was the laconic answer. Another train was due in ten minutes and
there was no time to waste. She opened a dainty leather purse, while the
lawyer paid his debt from a pocketful of small change. Twenty cents at
once. That _was_ luck. A moment later John was sprinting back at top
speed.

No double fare the next time, but the helpless stenographer lived a
street farther west, and each additional block meant another nickel
according to the unwritten umbrella tariff.

"Fifteen cents, madam," he demanded.

She retreated discreetly to the shadow of the apartment hallway to dive
into her stocking bank, while he watched two bedraggled sparrows on the
sidewalk until she reappeared.

On his return, he found the trains running on the five-minute, rush-hour
schedule. Each carried its revenue of small change for the eager,
clamoring boys. Once, a gray-haired, kindly-eyed man gave John a quarter
and would receive no change, and anoth