I am called home from State City to my hometown. I go to station, inquire about train time, and learn there is a train at 3:30 p.m. I have 2 suitcases, the cheap fiber one, and the heavy leather one. One of them has been injured, and 2 screws are needed to make a repair. I apparently go down town and into a store for the screws, but then forget about them. Boarding the train, I stretch out on a seat in my B.V.D.s. The train stops at 22nd and Rhode Island Ave. NE (Wash, D.C.) and a great many people walk past the coach I am in, and many more through it. It seems that at least 2 trains behind mine were wrecked, and the passengers have walked along the track and overtaken this train, hoping to be able to find seats on it. Pipps comes along the aisle, but I am so nearly asleep that I say nothing. It now appears that my good leather suitcase has disappeared though, fortunately, I had sometime ago transferred a package of toilet articles (wrapped up in a big bath towel) from it to my cheap fiber suitcase, so that all the wearing apparel lost was a raincoat. I tell Faye, with tears in my eyes, that I distinctly remember having brought the good suitcase with me; and I explain to Mamma that the raincoat lost was the $3.00 one bought from the Warren, Pa. concern. Next, I find myself in a large store, or rather a long, rather dimly lit room remindful of Ramby's hardware store. Off to the left is a good-sized recess or room having a large tin tub and about 3 buckets in place of regular toilets. I urinate in the tub, sitting on its edge so there will be less noise and splashing. On leaving this toilet room, I notice that the rest of room appears to be either a restaurant or a hotel. It seems I have been here twice, on the second visit to pay my bill and then catch a train. The man at desk, previously rather distant, becomes very cordial when he learns I intend to pay by bill. It now seems that, previous to this incident, I had been in a room of the hotel, and preparatory to leaving had started to dismantle a floor light which I had bought in N.Y. City. After getting the stand partially taken down I suddenly realize it won't go in my suitcase. There is another floor lamp in the room, a rather heavy metal stand which is more ornamental, but not nearly so good a reading lamp as mine. As I work at this I hear Faye's voice, just on other side of sliding doors, asking with a laugh whether or not the pretty girl who has helped prepare a meal wishes to go to the toilet room. This girl wears one of the head clothes that are not in style. As I am about to leave the hotel Anderson throws open the front door to admit the red headed young man who works in the paper company. (He also looks a little like.) He had given up his room previously to make space for me. He is "all dolled up" and evidently has come to pay court to the young lady.