For twenty years Madam and Mr. Bangs, as partners in the firm of
Bartlett & Bangs, had tried to run in opposite directions on the same
track, with the result that head-on collisions were of frequent
occurrence. Since Randolph Bartlett's retirement from the firm, Quin had
succeeded him as official switchman, and had proven himself an adept. His
skill in handling the old lady was soon apparent to Mr. Bangs, who lost
no time in utilizing it.
One afternoon in April, when Quin was busily employed at his desk, his
eyes happened to fall upon a calendar, the current date of which was
circled in red ink. The effect of the discovery was immediate. His
energetic mood promptly gave way to one of extreme languor, and his gaze
wandered from the papers in his hand across the grimy roof tops.
This time last year he and Miss Nell had made their first pilgrimage to
Valley Mead. It was just such a day as this, warm and lazy, with big
white clouds loafing off there in the west. He wondered if the peach
trees were in bloom now, and whether the white violets were coming up
along the creek-bank. How happy and contented Miss Nell always seemed in
the country! She had never known before what the outdoor life was like.
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