day coach, which seats a hundred or so passengers instead of a heavy Pullman, which seats maybe forty.”  

E. Van Tenner glowed inwardly with self-satisfaction in that he had taken the unaccustomed and plebeian coach. He felt sure that the beggar’s purse would warmly approve of Welland, When that gentlemen, on his suggestion, moved forward to share his seat he anticipated a pleasanter journey than he would have enjoyed in the parlor car. On the outskirts of the city the train was halted for a minute. Welland pointed out of the window to a great mass of scrap iron which was being pulled apart and loaded on flat cars by a busy gang of workers. To his astonishment he perceived that the workers were women.  

“You see that,” said his companion. “Why do you think they put women on such rough work?”  
“Because they can be had for lower wages, I suppose.”  
“Not at all. They’re getting men’s pay; have been for months. I saw the advertisements in the papers, offering it. No, sir! It’s because the railroad can’t find men enough. Yet back in the parlor car there’s a husky roust-about picking up towels and flicking dust off chair backs for tips, while those women hustle iron. He gets none of my money!”  

The trip to New York was exceptionally brief, E. Van Tenner thought. At the terminus two Red-Caps swooped upon Welland and himself, only to be repelled in disorder.  

“As long as women handle bulk metal I guess I can carry my own suit case,” observed Welland, stepping easily along under the burden of a week-end trunk. “You’ve no idea how much good muscle one puts on, juggling weights like this. Regular traveling gymnasium. Well; here’s where I leave you.”  

Bidding his companion good-by E. Van Tenner committed the following entry to his celluloid:  

Red-Cap...........$0.15  

He made his way to the outer air, where a waiting chorus celebrated his arrival by bursting, full-throated, into song:  

“Taxi! Taxi! Taxi, sir! Taxi t’yer hotel. Here y’are, taxi!” The familiar sounds led him unthinkingly to the nearest cab, operated by a youthful bruiser with the arms of an ape and the jaw of an alligator.  

“Where to?” he growled.  

E. Van Tenner laid a hand on his purse, drew it forth and----   

“What’s the good?” it demanded in black and authoritative print.  

 Prev. P 2/18 next