The “up” train squealed to a stop with a hiss of air and a cloud of steam. Conductor Len Gerrish sang out “Monson Junction! All folks off for Monson Junction! If you’re goin’ to Monson this is your stop! Watch your step, its getting’ dark!”
Dece Pullen got up from her seat and followed the few passengers out to the coach platform, down the car steps and onto the station platform. She could see station agent Giles Fogg through the frosted up station windows attending to customers.
It was just a few steps around the right side of the Junction Station, through the door and then into the station.
“Hello Giles!” greeted Dece. “How’s the family?”
“And how are you Mrs. Pullen?” replied the station master.
“I’m just coming back from Livermore Falls visiting my Mother. I imagine Fred is needin’ me about now with our three boys. He’s just finishin’ a bobsled for the boys for Christmas. He’ll be meetin’ me there with the team”, Dece replied.
“Well you’ll be home in about fifteen minutes” replied station master Fogg. “That will be 25 cents, seein’ you’ll be getting off at Days. And a Merry Christmas to you Mrs. Pullen!”
“ And a merry Christmas to you Giles!” replied Dece.
From the station it was a short walk to the waiting Monson train. She noticed it was just the locomotive and the combination car tonight. It was easy getting on the narrow gauge coach. It took only one step up on the car platform, through the door and then a seat on the long bench type seats. It was warm with the stove in the other end of the passenger compartment. A kerosene lamp mounted on the baggage compartment wall, shed a dim but warm light through out the compartment.
Dece spotted her friend Barbara Flanders and sat down beside her and immediately dove into conversation.
Two toots of the whistle and they were off. The engine crew blew for the Greenville road crossing and then there was some pretty heavy puffing from the locomotive. It was a heavy grade from the junction for quite a spell. But this didn’t concern Dece. She was already in a deep conversation with her friend exchanging the latest on their families.
“Good evening ladies,” greeted Harold Morrill conductor. “Looks like we’ll make it to Monson this time!” This was a good-natured joke familiar to all who rode the train. Some of them had even spent a night at Dece Pullen’s when the train got stuck in the snow at Day’s Crossing. Both ladies surrendered their tickets for punching and Mr. Morrill moved on to the other passengers. Most of the passengers on board had at one time or another not made it to Monson due to heavy snow.
It wasn’t long, or so it seemed to Dece who was still in deep conversation, that the train was slowing down. The crew stopped the train right at the crossing where Fred was waiting with the sleigh. Dece got up, worked her way down the isle and out on the coach platform.
“A Merry Christmas to you and Hattie, Mr. Morrill!” greeted Dece.
“And a Merry Christmas Mrs. Pullen and to Fred and the boys!” called Morrill from the platform.
Two toots from the locomotive and the train was on its way, disappearing in the dark and swirling snow. It was good to be home.
