There had driven into the stableyard of the Hotel Button a queer box-car wagon on rickety yellow wheels, unwillingly pulled by tired nags. The wagon had a hope-to-die roof and a smokestack. On the driver’s seat was a ragged man and an impetuous young person in faded blue gingham. The impetuous young person was driving and singing “God Be With Us Till We Meet Again”—unconscious of the beauty of her voice.