They didn't know for sure, but they thought it would be to-morrow.

It would be fine, riding off on the big train.

Probably they would never come back to this town, but sleep on their big engine every night; and every day, from the toothsome dainties of the train-boy Sullivan's basket, they would "eat all they could hold." The elder Sullivan, aged eight, he of the artistic temperament, here soared dizzily into the farthest ether of romance.

He had his uniform at home, at that very moment, and a cap with "gold reading" on it--it read "Conductor" on one side, and "Candy" on the other.

Only--this veritably smacked of genius--the blue coat with the gold buttons had been made too small for him, and he'd have to wait until they sent him a larger size--"a No.