At Worcester, where the train has made the usual stop, THE PORTER, with
his lantern on his arm, enters the car, preceding a gentleman somewhat
anxiously smiling; his nervous speech contrasts painfully with the
business-like impassiveness of THE PORTER, who refuses, with an air of
incredulity, to enter into the confidences which the gentleman seems
reluctant to bestow.
MR. EDWARD ROBERTS. This is the Governor Marcy, isn't it?
THE PORTER. Yes, sah.
MR. ROBERTS. Came on from Albany, and not from New York?
THE PORTER. Yes, sah, it did.