FORTY MINUTES LATE

By F. Hopkinson Smith

1909

It began to snow half an hour after the train started--a fine-grained, slanting, determined snow that forced its way between the bellows of thevestibules, and deposited itself in mounds of powdered salt all over theplatforms and steps. Even the porter had caught some puffs on hisdepot coat with the red cape, and so had the conductor, from the way hethrashed his cap on the back of the seat in front of mine. "Yes, gettin' worse, " he said in answer to an inquiring lift of my eyebrows. "Everything will be balled up if this keeps on. "

"Shall we make the connection at Bondville?" I was to lecture fiftymiles from Bondville Junction, and had but half an hour lee-way. 

If the man with the punch heard, he made no answer. The least saidthe soonest mended in crises like this. If we arrived on time everypassenger would grab his bag and bolt out without thanking him or theroad, or the engineer who took the full blast of the storm on his chestand cheeks. If we missed the connection, any former hopeful word wouldonly add another hot coal to everybody's anger. 

I fell back on the porter. 

"Yes' sir, she'll be layin' jes' 'cross de platform. She knows we'recomin'. Sometimes she waits ten minutes--sometimes she don't; more timesI seen her pullin' out while we was pullin' in. "

Not very reassuring this. Only one statement was of value--the positionof the connecting train when we rolled into Bondville. 

I formulated a plan: The porter would take one bag, I the other--wewould both stand on the lower step of the Pullman, then make a dash. Ifshe was pulling out as we pulled in, a goatlike spring on my part mightsucceed; the bags being hurled after me to speed the animal's motion. 

One hour later we took up our position. 

"Dat's good!--Dar she is jes' movin' out: thank ye, sar. I got debag--dis way!"

There came a jolt, a Saturday-afternoon slide across the ice-coveredplatform, an outstretched greasy hand held down from the step of themoving train, followed by the chug of a bag that missed my knees by ahand's breadth--and I was hauled on board. 

The contrast between a warm, velvet-lined Pullman and a cane-seated carwith both doors opened every ten minutes was anything but agreeable;but no discomfort should count when a lecturer is trying to make hisconnection. That is what he is paid for and that he must do at allhazards and at any cost, even to chartering a special train, the pricedevouring his fee. 

Once in my seat an account of stock was taken--two bags, an umbrella, overcoat, two gum shoes (one off, one on), manuscript of lecture in bag, eye-glasses in outside pocket of waistcoat. This over, I spread myselfupon the cane seat and took in the situation. It was four o'clock (thelecture was at eight); Sheffield was two hours away; this would givetime to change my dress and get something to eat. The committee, moreover, were to meet me at the depot with a carriage and drive meto where I was "to spend the night and dine"--so the chairman's letterread. The suppressed smile on the second conductor's face when hepunched my ticket and read the name of "Sheffield" sent my hand into mypocket in search of this same letter. Yes--there was no mistake aboutit, --"Our carriage, " it read, "will meet you, " etc. , etc. 

The confirmation brought with it a certain thrill; not a carriage pickedup out of the street, or a lumbering omnibus--a mere go-between fromstation to hotels--but "our carriage!" Nothing like these lectureassociations, I thought, --nothing like these committees, for makingstrangers comfortable. That was why it was often a real pleasure toappear before them. This one would, no doubt, receive me in a big yellowand white Colonial club-house built by the women of the town (I know ofa dozen just such structures), with dressing and lunch rooms, spaciouslecture hall, and janitor in gray edged with black. 

This thought called up my own responsibility in the matter; I was gladI had caught the train; it was a bad night to bring people out and thendisappoint them, even if most of them did come in their own carriages. Then again, I had kept my word; none of my fault, of course, if Ihadn't--but I had!--that was a source of satisfaction. Now that Ithought of it, I had, in all my twenty years of lecturing, failed onlytwice to reach the platform. In one instance a bridge was washed away, and in the other my special train (the price I paid for that train stillkeeps me hot against the Trusts) ran into a snowdrift and stayed thereuntil after midnight, instead of delivering me on time, as agreed. I hadarrived late, of course, many times, gone without my supper often, andmore than once had appeared without the proper habiliments--and I amparticular about my dress coat and white waistcoat--but only twice hadthe gas been turned off and the people turned out. Another time I had--

"Sheffield! Shef-fie-l-d! All out for Shef-f-i-e-l-d!" yelled theconductor. 

The two bags once more, the conductor helping me on with my overcoat, down the snow-blocked steps and out into the night. 

"Step lively!--more'n an hour late now. "

I looked about me. I was the only passenger. Not a light of anykind--not a building of any kind, sort, or description, except a box-carof a station set up on end, pitch dark inside and out, and shut tight. No carriage. No omnibus; nothing on runners; nothing on wheels. Only adreary waste of white, roofed by a vast expanse of black. 

"Is this Sheffield?" I gasped. 

"Yes, --all there is here; the balance is two miles over the hills. "

"The town?"

"Town?--no, the settlement;--ain't more's two dozen houses in it. "

"They were to send a carriage and--"

"Yes--that's an old yarn--better foot it for short. " Here he swung hislantern to the engineer craning his head from the cab of the locomotive, and sprang aboard. Then this fragment came whirling through the steamand smoke:--"There's a farmhouse somewhere's over the hill, --follow thefence and turn to--" the rest was lost in the roar of the on-speedingtrain. 

I am no longer young. Furthermore, I hate to carry things--bagsespecially. One bag might be possible--a very small one; two bags, bothbig, are an insult. 

I deposited the two outside the box-car, tried the doors, insertedmy fingers under the sash of one window, looked at the chimney with ahalf-formed Santa Claus idea of scaling the roof and sliding down tosome possible fireplace below; examined the wind-swept snow for carriagetracks, peered into the gloom, and, as a last resort, leaned up againstthe sheltered side of the box to think. 

There was no question that if a vehicle of any kind had been sent tomeet me it had long since departed; the trackless roadway showed that. It was equally evident that if one was coming, I had better meet it onthe way than stay where I was and freeze to death. The fence was stillvisible--the near end--and there was a farmhouse somewhere--so theconductor had said, and he seemed to be an honest, truthful man. Whetherto right or left of the invisible road, the noise of the train and thehowl of the wind had prevented my knowing--but _somewhere's_--That was aconsolation. 

The bags were the most serious obstacles. If I carried one in each handthe umbrella would have to be cached, for some future relief expeditionto find in the spring. 

There _was_ a way, of course, to carry bags--any number of bags. Allthat was needed was a leather strap with a buckle at each end; I hadhelped to hang half a dozen bags across the shoulders of as many portersmeeting trains all over Europe. Of course, I didn't wear leather straps. Suspenders were my stronghold. They might!--No, it was too cold to getat them in that wind. And if I did they were of the springy, wabbly kindthat would seesaw the load from my hips to my calves. 

The only thing was to press on. Some one had blundered, of course. 

"Half a league, half a league--into the jaws, " etc. 

"Theirs not to reason why--" But my duty was plain; the audience werealready assembling; the early ones in their seats by this time. 

Then an inspiration surged through me. Why not slip the umbrella throughthe handle of one bag, as Pat carries his shillalah and bundle of duds, and grab the other in my free hand! Our carriage couldn't be far off. The exercise would keep my blood active and my feet from freezing, andas to the road, was there not the fence, its top rail making rabbitjumps above the drifts?

So I trudged on, stumbling into holes, flopping into treacherous ruts, halting in the steeper places to catch my breath, till I reached the topof the hill. There I halted--stopped short, in fact: the fence had givenout! In its place was a treacherous line of bushes that faded into adelusive clump of trees. Beyond, and on both sides, stretched a greatwhite silence--still as death. 

Another council of war. I could retrace my steps, smash in the windowsof the station, and camp for the night, taking my chances of stoppingsome east-bound train as it whizzed past, with a match and mynecktie--or I could stumble on, perhaps in a circle, and be found inthe morning by the early milk. 

On! On once more--maybe the clump of trees hid something--maybe--

Here a light flashed--a mere speck of a light--not to the right, wherelay the clump of trees--but to my left; then a faint wave of warm colorrose from a chimney and curled over a low roof buried in snow. Again thelight flashed--this time through a window with four panes of glass--eachone a beacon to a storm-tossed mariner!

On once more--into a low hollow--up a steep slope--slipping, falling, shoving the hand-gripped bag ahead of me to help my footing, until Ireached a snow-choked porch and a closed door. 

Here I knocked. 

For some seconds there was no sound; then came a heavy tread, and a manin overalls threw wide the door. 

"Well, what do you want at this time of night?" (Time of night, and itbut seven-thirty!)

"I'm the lecturer, " I panted. 

"Oh, come! Ain't they sent for ye? Here, I'll take 'em. Walk in andwelcome. You look beat out. Well--well--wife and I was won-derin' whynothin' driv past for the six-ten. We knowed you was comin'. Then agin, the station master's sick, and I 'spose ye couldn't warm up none. Andthey ain't sent for ye? And they let ye tramp all--Well--well!"

I did not answer. I hadn't breath enough left for sustainedconversation; moreover, there was a red-hot stove ahead of me, and arocking-chair, --comforts I had never expected to see again--and therewas a pine table--oh, a lovely pine table, with a most exquisite whiteoil-cloth cover, holding the most beautiful kerosene lamp with apiece of glorious red flannel floating in its amber fluid; and in thecorner--a wife--a sweet-faced, angelic-looking young wife, with a babyin her arms too beautiful for words--must have been!

I dropped into the chair, spread my fingers to the stove and lookedaround--warmth--rest-peace--comfort--companionship--all in a minute!

"No, they didn't send anything, " I wheezed when my breath came. "Theconductor told me I should find the farmhouse over the hill--and--"

"Yes, that's so; it's back a piece, you must have missed it. "

"Yes--I must have missed it, " I continued in a dazed way. 

"The folks at the farmhouse is goin' to hear ye speak, so they told me. Must be startin' now. "

"Would you please let them know I am here, and--"

"Sure! Wait till I get on my boots! Hello!--that's him now. "

Again the door swung wide. This time it let in a fur overcoat, coon-skincap, two gray yarn mittens, a pair of raw-beefsteak cheeks and a voicelike a fog-horn. 

"Didn't send for ye? Wall, I'll be gol-durned! And yer had to fut it?Well, don' that beat all. And yer ain't the fust one they've left downhere to get up the best way they could. Last winter--Jan'ry, warn't it, Bill?" Bill nodded--"there come a woman from New York and they dumpedher out jes' same as you. I happened to come along in time, as luckwould have it--I was haulin' a load of timber on my bob-sled--and therewarn't nothin' else, so I took her up to the village. She got in late, of course, but they was a-waitin' for her. I really wasn't goin' to hearyou speak to-night--we git so much of that sort of thing since the oldman who left the money to pay you fellers for talkin' died--been goin'on ten years now--but I'll take yer 'long with me, and glad to. But yeroughter have somethin' warmer'n what yer got on. Wind's kinder nippydown here, but it ain't nothin' to the way it bites up on the ridge. "

This same thought had passed through my own mind. The unusual exertionhad started every pore in my body; the red-hot stove had put on thefinishing touches and I was in a Russian bath. To face that wind meantall sorts of calamities. 

The Madonna-like wife with the cherub in her arms rose to her feet. 

"Would you mind wearing my fur tippet?" she said in her soft voice;"'tain't much, but it 'ud keep out the cold from yer neck and maybe thisshawl'd help some, if I tied it round your shoulders. Father got hisdeath ridin' to the village when he was overhet. "

She put them on with her own hands, bless her kind heart! her husbandholding the baby; then she followed me out into the cold and helped drawthe horse-blanket over my knees; the man in the coon-skin cap luggingthe bags and the umbrella. 

I looked at my watch. After eight o'clock, and two miles to drive!

"Oh, I'll git yer there, " came a voice from inside the fur overcoat. "Darter wanted to go, but I said 'twarn't no night to go nowhars. Got tosee a man who owes me some money, or I'd stay home myself. Git up, Joe. "

It was marvellous, the intelligence of this man. More than marvellouswhen my again blinded eyes--the red flannel in the lamp helped--began totake in the landscape. Fences were evidently of no use to him; clumps oftrees didn't count. If he had a compass anywhere about his clothes, he never once consulted it. Drove right on--across trackless Siberiansteppes; by the side of endless glaciers, and through primeval forests, his voice keeping up its volume of sound, as he laid bare for me thescandals of the village--particularly the fight going on between the twochurches--one hard and one soft--this lecture course being one of thebones of contention. 

I saved my voice and kept quiet. If a runner did not give out or"Joe" break a leg, we would reach the hall in time; half an hour late, perhaps--but in time; the man beside me had said so--and the man besideme knew. 

With a turn of the fence--a new one had thrust its hands out of adrift--a big building--big in the white waste--loomed up. My companionflapped the reins the whole length of Joe's back. 

"Git up! No, by gosh!--they ain't tired yet;--they're still a-waitin'. See them lights--that's the hall. "

I gave a sigh of relief. The ambitious young man with one ear open forstellar voices, and the overburdened John Bunyan, and any number ofother short-winded pedestrians, could no longer monopolize the upwardand onward literature of our own or former times. I too had arrived. 

Another jerk to the right--a trot up an incline, and we stopped at asteep flight of steps--a regular Jacob's-ladder flight--leading toa corridor dimly lighted by the flare of a single gas jet. Up this Istumbled, lugging the bags once more, my whole mind bent on reaching theplatform at the earliest possible moment--a curious mental attitude, Iam aware, for a man who had eaten nothing since noon, was still wetand shivering inside, and half frozen outside--nose, cheeks, andfingers---from a wind that cut like a circular saw. 

As I landed the last bag on the top step--the fog-horn couldn't leavehis horse--I became conscious of the movements of a short, rotund, shad-shaped gentleman in immaculate white waistcoat, stiff choker andwide expanse of shirt front. He was approaching me from the door of thelecture hall in which sat the audience; then a clammy hand was thrustout--and a thin voice trickled this sentence:

"You're considerable late sir--our people have been in their--"

"I am _what!_" I cried, straightening up. 

"I said you were forty minutes late, sir. We expect our lecturers to beon--"

That was the fulminate that exploded the bomb. Up to now I had heldmyself in hand. I was carrying, I knew, 194 pounds of steam, and I alsoknew that one shovel more of coal would send the entire boiler intospace, but through it all I had kept my hand on the safety-valve. Itmight have been the white waistcoat or the way the curved white collarcupped his billiard-ball of a chin, or it might have been the slightfrown about his eyebrows, or the patronizing smile that drifted over hisfreshly laundered face; or it might have been the deprecating gesturewith which he consulted his watch: whatever it was, out went the boiler. 

"Late! Are you the man that's running this lecture course?"

"Well, sir, I have the management of it. "

"You have, have you? Then permit me to tell you right here, my friend, that you ought to sublet the contract to a five-year-old boy. You let meget out in the cold--send no conveyance as you agreed--"

"We sent our wagon, sir, to the station. You could have gone inand warmed yourself, and if it had not arrived you could havetelephoned--the station is always warm. "

"You have the impudence to tell me that I don't know whether a stationis closed or not, and that I can't see a wagon when it is hauled upalongside a depot?"

The clammy hands went up in protest: "If you will listen, sir, I will--"

"No, sir, I will listen to nothing. " and I forged ahead into a smallroom where five or six belated people were hanging up their coats andhats. 

But the Immaculate still persisted:

"This is not where--Will you come into the dressing-room, sir? We have anice warm room for the lecturers on the other side of the--"

"No--sir; I won't go another step, except on to that platform, and I'mnot very anxious now to get there--not until I put something insideof me--" (here I unstrapped my bag) "to save me from an attack ofpneumonia. " (I had my flask out now and the cup filled to the brim. )"When I think of how hard I worked to get here and how little you--"(and down it went at one gulp). 

The expression of disgust that wrinkled the placid face of theImmaculate as the half-empty flask went back to its place, waspathetic--but I wouldn't have given him a drop to have saved his life. 

I turned on him again. 

"Do you think it would be possible to get a vehicle of any kind to takeme where I am to sleep?"

"I think so, sir. " His self-control was admirable. 

"Well, will you please do it?"

"A sleigh has already been ordered, sir. " This came through tightlyclosed lips. 

"All right. Now down which aisle is the entrance to the platform?"

"This way, sir. " The highest glacier on Mont Blanc couldn't have beencolder or more impassive. 

Just here a calming thought wedged itself into my brain-storm. Thesepatient, long-suffering people were not to blame; many of them had comeseveral miles through the storm to hear me speak and were entitled tothe best that was in me. To vent upon them my spent steam because--No, that was impossible. 

"Hold on, my friend, " I said, "stop where you are, let me pull myselftogether. This isn't their fault--" We were passing behind the screenhiding the little stage. 

But he didn't hold on; he marched straight ahead; so did I, past thepitcher of ice water and the two last winter's palms, where he motionedme to a chair. 

His introduction was not long, nor was it discursive. There was nothingeulogistic of my various acquirements, occupations, talents; no remarkabout the optimistic trend of my literature, the affection in which mycharacters were held; nothing of this at all. Nor did I expect it. Whatinterested me more was the man himself. 

The steam of my wrath had blurred his outline and make-up before; now Igot a closer, although a side, view of his person. He was a short man, much thicker at the middle than he was at either end--a defect all themore apparent by reason of a long-tailed, high-waisted, unbuttonableblack coat which, while it covered his back and sides, would have lefthis front exposed, but for his snowy white waistcoat, which burst like aball of cotton from its pod. 

His only gesture was the putting together of his ten fingers, openingand touching them again to accentuate his sentences. What passed throughmy mind as I sat and watched him, was not the audience, nor what Iwas going to say to them, but the Christianlike self-control of thisgentleman--a control which seemed to carry with it a studied reproof. Under its influence I unconsciously closed both furnace doors and openedmy forced draft. Even then I should have reached for the safety-valve, but for an oily, martyr-like smile which flickered across his face, accompanied by a deprecating movement of his elbows, both indicating hispatience under prolonged suffering, and his instant readiness to turnthe other cheek if further smiting on my part was in store for him. Istrode to the edge of the platform: "I know, good people, " I exploded, "that you are not responsible for what has happened, but I want to tellyou before I begin, that I have been boiling mad for ten minutes and amstill at white heat, and that it is going to take me some time to getcool enough to be of the slightest service to you. You notice that Iappear before you without a proper suit of clothes--a mark of respectwhich every lecturer should pay his audience. You are also aware that Iam nearly an hour late. What I regret is, first, the cause of my frameof mind, second, that you should have been kept waiting. Now, let metell you exactly what I have gone through, and I do it simply becausethis is not the first time that this has happened to your lecturers, andit ought to be your last. It certainly will be the last for me. " Thenfollowed the whole incident, including the Immaculate's protest about mybeing late, my explosion, etc. , etc. , even to the incident of my flask. 

There was a dead silence--so dead and lifeless that I could not tellwhether they were offended or not; but I made my bow as usual, and beganmy discourse. 

The lecture over, the Immaculate paid me my fee with punctiliouscourtesy, waiving the customary receipt; followed me to the cloak-room, helped me on with my coat, picked up one of the bags, --an auditor theother, and the two followed me down Jacob's ladder into the night. Outside stood a sleigh shaped like the shell of Dr. Holmes's _Nautilus_, its body hardly large enough to hold a four-months-old baby. This wassurrounded by half the audience, anxious, I afterward learned, fora closer view of the man who had "sassed" the Manager. Some of themexpected it to continue. 

I squeezed in beside the bags and was about to draw up the horseblanket, when a voice rang out:

"Mis' Plimsole's goin' in that sleigh, too. " It was at Mrs. Plimsole'sthat I was to spend the night. 

Then a faint voice answered back:

"No, I can just as well walk. " She evidently knew the danger of sittingnext to an overcharged boiler. 

Mrs. Plimsole!--a woman--walk--on a night like this--I was out of thesleigh before she had ceased to speak. 

"No, madam, you are going to do nothing of the kind; if anybody is towalk it will be I; I'm getting used to it. "

She allowed me to tuck her in. It was too dark for me to see what shewas like--she was so swathed and tied up. Being still mad--fires drawnbut still dangerous, I concluded that my companion was sour, and skinny, with a parrot nose and one tooth gone. That I was to pass the night ather house did not improve the estimate; there would be mottoes on thewalls--"What is home without a mother, " and the like; tidies on thechairs, and a red-hot stove smelling of drying socks. There would alsobe a basin and pitcher the size of a cup and saucer, and a bed thatsagged in the middle and was covered with a cotton quilt. 

The _Nautilus_ stopped at a gate, beyond which was a smaller Jacob'sladder leading to a white cottage. Was there nothing built on a levelin Sheffield? I asked myself. The bags which had been hung on the shaftscame first, then I, then the muffled head and cloak. Upward and onwardagain, through a door, past a pretty girl who stood with her hand onthe knob in welcome, and into a hall. Here the girl helped unmummy hermother, and then turned up the hall-lamp. 

Oh, such a dear, sweet gray-haired old lady! The kind of an old ladyyou would have wanted to stay--not a night with--but a year. An old ladywith plump fresh cheeks and soft brown eyes and a smile that warmed youthrough and through. And such an all-embracing restful room with itsopen wood fire, andirons and polished fender--and the plants and booksand easy-chairs! And the cheer of it all!

"Now you just sit there and get comfortable, " she said, patting myshoulder--(the second time in one night that a woman's hand had beenthat of an angel). "Maggie'll get you some supper. We had it all ready, expecting you on the six-ten. Hungry, aren't you?"

Hungry! I could have gnawed a hole in a sofa to get at the strawstuffing. 

She drew up a chair, waited till her daughter had left the room, andsaid with a twinkle in her eyes:

"Oh, I was glad you gave it to 'em the way you did, and when you sailedinto that snivelling old Hard-shell deacon, I just put my hands downunder my petticoats and clapped them for joy. There isn't anybodyrunning anything up here. They don't have to pay for this lecturecourse. It was given to them by a man who is dead. All they thinkthey've got to do is to dress themselves up. They're all officers;there's a recording secretary and a corresponding secretary and anexecutive committee and a president and two vice-presidents, and a lotmore that I can't remember. Everyone of them is leaving everythingto somebody else to attend to. I know, because I take care of all thelecturers that come. Only last winter a lady lecturer arrived here on aload of wood; she didn't lose her temper and get mad like you did. Maybeyou know her; she told us all about the Indians and her husband, thegreat general, who was surrounded and massacred by them. "

"Know her, Madam, not only do I know and love her, but the whole countryloves her. She is a saint, Madam, that the good Lord only allows to livein this world because if she was transferred there would be no standardleft. "

"Yes, but then you had considerable cause. The hired girl next door--shesat next to my daughter--said she didn't blame you a mite. " (Somebodywas on my side, anyhow. ) "Now come in to supper. "

The next morning I was up at dawn: I had to get up at dawn because theomnibus made only one trip to the station, to catch the seven-o'clocktrain. I went by the eight-ten, but a little thing like that never makesany difference in Sheffield. 

When the omnibus arrived it came on runners. Closer examination from thewindow of the cosey room--the bedroom was even more delightful--revealeda square furniture van covered on the outside with white canvas, thedoor being in the middle, like a box-car. I bade the dear old lady andher daughter good-by, opened the hall door and stood on the top step. The driver, a stout, fat-faced fellow, looked up with an inquiringglance. 

"Nice morning, " I cried in my customary cheerful tone--the dear womanhad wrought the change. 

"You bet! Got over your mad?"

The explosion had evidently been heard all over the village. 

"Yes, " I laughed, as I crawled in beside two other passengers. 

"You was considerable het up last night, so Si was tellin' me, " remarkedthe passenger, helping me with one bag. 

I nodded. Who Si might be was not of special interest, and then againthe subject had now lost its inflammatory feature. 

The woman made no remark; she was evidently one of the secretaries. 

"Well, by gum, if they had left me where they left you last night, andyou a plumb stranger, I'd rared and pitched a little myself, " continuedthe man. "When you come again--"

"Come again! Not by a--"

"Oh, yes, you will. You did them Hard-shells a lot of good! You just betyour bottom dollar they'll look out for the next one of you fellows thatcomes up here!"

The woman continued silent. She would have something to say about anyreturn visit of mine, and she intended to say it out loud if the timeever came!

The station now loomed into sight. I sprang out and tried the knob. Iknew all about that knob--every twist and turn of it. 

"Locked again!" I shouted, "and I've got to wait here an hour in this--"

"Hold on--_hold on_--" shouted back the driver. "Don't break looseagain. I got the key. "

My mail a week later brought me a county paper containing thisstatement: "The last lecturer, owing to some error on the part of thecommittee, was not met at the train and was considerably vexed. He saidso to the audience and to the committee. Everybody was satisfied withhis talk until they heard what they had to pay for it. He also said thathe had left his dress suit in his trunk. If what we hear is true, heleft his manners with it. " On reflection, the editor was right--_I had_.