The Stranger on the Night Train

I was a brakeman on the Michigan railway, a long and lonely stretch of rails. When I fell from the platform during the great accident, it was Kate's care that brought me back to the world. We married and lived in a cottage on the edge of the Swampscott woods. One stormy autumn night, we were delayed on the road. The news agent told me we were to stop at Stampville Station to put an old woman off who had lost her ticket. I looked at the old lady—a little woman in a black silk poke bonnet, respectable cloth cloak, and a long green veil—who was earnestly gesturing to the conductor. I told the conductor, 'Never mind, I will pay her fare.' I took her to my own house. When we arrived at my cottage, I brought the chilled lady through the threshold. My wife, Kate, advanced to untie the visitor's veil, and suddenly, I heard a cry: 'Mother, O mother!' The unfortunate passenger whose pocket had been picked on the train was none other than Kate's own mother, who had determined to risk the perils of a journey to the far West to see her child once again.