Baby Van Rensselaer [to herself]: I wonder if that is the regiment I saw coming back from Washington?
IV.
THE FOURTH CONVERSATION.
Tuesday, August 22, 1882.
The train rattled hotly along on its sultry journey from one end of Long Island to the other, a journey the half of which it had nearly accomplished with much fuss and fret. Leaving his impediments of travel in the smoker, Dear Jones entered the forward end of the parlor car in search of an uncontaminated glass of water. As he set down the glass he glanced along the car, and his manner changed at once. He opened the door for an instant and threw on the down track his half-smoked cigarette; and then, smiling pleasantly, he walked firmly down the car, past a rustic bridal couple, and took a vacant seat just in front of Baby Van Rensselaer.
Baby Van Rensselaer: Why, Mr. Jones!
Dear Jones: Why, Miss Van Rensselaer!
Baby Van Rensselaer: Who would have thought of seeing you here in this hot weather?
Dear Jones: Can I have this seat or is it that I mank at the convenances—as the French say?
Baby Van Rensselaer: It’s Uncle Larry’s chair—he’s gone back to talk to one of his vestrymen—he’s taking me to Shelter Island.