Located in the checkroom in Union
Station as I am, I see everybody that comes up the stairs
Harry came in a little over three years ago and waited at the head
of the stairs for the passengers from the 9:05 trainI remember
seeing Harry that first evening. He wasn't much more than a thin,
anxious kid then. He was all dressed up and I knew he was meeting
his girl and that they would be married twenty minutes after she
arrived.
Well, the passengers came up and I had to get busy. I didn't look toward the stairs again until nearly time for the 9:18 and I was very surprised to see that the young fellow was still there.
She didn't come on the 9:18 either, nor on the
9:40, and when the passengers from the 10:02 had all arrived and
left, Harry was looking pretty desperate. Pretty soon he came close
to my window so I called out and asked him what she looked
like.
I couldn't remember
seeing anybody like that.
He showed me the
telegram he'd received: ARRIVE THURSDAY. MEET ME STATION. LOVE LOVE
LOVE LOVE. MAY. It was from Omaha,
Nebraska.
"Well," I finally said,
"why don't you phone to your home? She's probably called there if
she got in ahead of you."
He gave me a sick look.
"I've only been in town two days. We were going to meet and then
drive down South where I've got a job. She hasn't any address for
me." He touched the telegram.
When I came on duty the
next day he was still there and came over as soon as he saw
me.
"Did she work anywhere?"
I asked.
He nodded. "She was a
typist. I telegraphed her former boss. All they know is that she
left her job to get married."
Harry met every train for the next three or four
days. Of course, the railroad lines made a routine checkup and the
police looked into the case. But nobody was any real help. I could
see that they all figured that May had simply played a trick on
him. But I never believed that,
somehow.