When we reached Raleigh, there was a delay of some minutes, and the train was soon crowded in the aisles with those getting out and those coming in. As we sat watching them Frank suddenly exclaimed, “Yonder’s Carrover and Brazon, as I am a sinner!” and I saw two young men lounging up the aisle from the rear door. One of them filled my idea of what a senior ought to be. His beaver was tipped just a little on one side of a head covered with a profusion of rich brown curls, his face handsome, though pale, and ornamented with a dainty moustache and goatee; his form tall and graceful, and his dress very elegant but not foppish. He also carried a gold headed cane, larger and heavier than Frank’s. His companion impressed me very disagreeably. He was short and thick of stature, with a bold, red face, staring pale blue eyes and a carrotty frizz of hair. He was dressed in very flashy style, and his linen was frowzy and rumpled. He greeted Frank with boisterous cordiality, and took the seat immediately behind us. The tall and elegant young man, I thought, greeted Frank very coolly, as if there was not much intimacy between them. He took a seat some distance off, and taking the British Quarterly Review from his travelling bag, was soon buried in its pages.
Brazon, as soon as there was a pause in Frank’s conversation, leaned over and asked us politely how far up the road we were going.
“Only to Durham’s station,” I replied, feeling complimented by his notice.
“Then you are going to Chapel Hill?”
“Yes,” I said, turning in my seat, so as to look at him; “you have been at college there, have you not?”
“Oh, yes,” he replied, his pale eyes twinkling maliciously. “May I ask what class you intend to join?”
“The Fresh, I suppose, unless the professors——” but before I could finish the sentence he shouted in a loud tone: “Hello! Frank! here are a couple of Fresh, regular green ones, too. That’s right,” he said, addressing us, and patting me on the shoulder, “sit together on the same bench, like good little boys. Did mamma and papa tie you together, for fear you’d get lost? That’s clever, my children, do as your pairients tell you and the devil will give you candy some day.”
I was so taken by surprise at the sudden change in his tone from the polite to the jeering, that I sat with a burning face under his ridicule, while the car was shaking with the laughter of the passengers at our discomfiture, and never thought of resenting it. Frank, however, who had gone to the other end of the car to get some water, returned and saw the position of affairs. He caught Brazon by the arm, exclaiming:
“What the devil are you doing, Brazon? These gentlemen are particular friends of mine. You must have forgotten yourself.”
“No I didn’t, either. How could I know they were your friends when you said nothing about them? But since they are, I beg pardon. Introduce me and we will shake hands round and be friends.”