“Young man, won’t you take a seat with another gentleman and give us this seat?”
“Very cheerfully,” I replied, “if the other gentleman will allow me to sit by the window.”
He regarded this as equivalent to a refusal, and became vexed.
“But,” he said, rather petulantly, “don’t you see I have my lady with me?”
Until he said this, I had supposed her to be his wife.
“My friend,” I returned, “I came to the station early for the express purpose of obtaining a comfortable seat, and I do not think it right that I should keep it this long, and then give it up to another. I therefore respectfully decline to relinquish my seat.”
“I hope,” said he, fairly grinding his teeth with anger and vexation, “that you will some day be traveling with a lady, and——”
“I hope so,” I interrupted; “but I fear I will never be so fortunate.”
“Well,” he rejoined, changing his tactics, “I will see the conductor, and see if he don’t make the arrangement for me.”
“Very well,” I retorted; “see the conductor. I myself would like to see a conductor with the power and authority to take this seat from me. That conductor would be a living wonder. Barnum would pay handsomely for him.”