In another second he had dropped into
the seat beside the girl.
"Glad to meet you again, Miss Kitty," he said cheerfully. "How's the
big town been using you?"
The girl looked at him with a little gasp of surprise. "Mr. Lindsay!"
Sudden tears filmed her eyes. She forgot that she had left him with
the promise never again to speak to him. She was in a far country, and
he was a friend from home.
The conductor bustled down the aisle. "Say, where do you get this
movie-stunt stuff? You can't jump from the top of one bus to another."
Clay smiled genially. "I can't, but I did."
"That ain't the system of transfers we use in this town. You might 'a'
got killed."
"Oh, well, let's not worry about that now."
"I'd ought to have you pulled. Three years I've been on this run and--"
"Nice run. Wages good?"
"Don't get gay, young fellow. I can tell you one thing. You've got to
pay another fare."
Clay paid it.
The conductor retired to his post. He grinned in spite of his official
dignity. There was something about this young fellow he liked. After
he had been in New York awhile he would be properly tamed.
"What about that movie job? Is it pannin' out pay gold?" Lindsay asked
Kitty.
Bit by bit her story came out. It was a common enough one. She had
been flim-flammed out of her money by the alleged school of
moving-picture actors, and the sharpers had decamped with it.
As she looked at her recovered friend, Kitty gradually realized an
outward transformation in his appearance.
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