"I think so," he said.
"Do we stop here?" I asked.
"I think we do this morning," he answered. "I think I
heard the conductor say that they have a lot of milk cans
to put off here this morning. I'll just go and find out,
sir."
"Stop here!" broke in an irascible-looking gentleman in
a grey tweed suit who was sitting in the next chair to
mine. "Do they _stop_ here? I should say they did indeed.
Don't you know," he added, turning to the Pullman conductor,
"that any train is _compelled_ to stop here. There's a
by-law, a municipal by-law of the City of Toronto,
_compelling_ every train to stop?"
"I didn't know it," said the conductor humbly.
"Do you mean to say," continued the irascible gentleman,
"that you have never read the by-laws of the City of
Toronto?"
"No, sir," said the conductor.
"The ignorance of these fellows," said the man in grey
tweed, swinging his chair round again towards me. "We
ought to have a by-law to compel them to read the by-laws.
I must start an agitation for it at once." Here he took
out a little red notebook and wrote something in it,
murmuring, "We need a new agitation anyway."
Presently he shut the book up with a snap. I noticed that
there was a sort of peculiar alacrity in everything he
did.
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