“I ain’t none of your dear, an’ don’t you call me that nuther.”
“Pardon me, sister, but I meant to be pleasant to you.”
“I wouldn’t choose any of your pleasantness. It’s just lak you drummer chaps. I’ve heard of your doin’s before.”
She thought I was a knight of the grip, and feared that I would flirt with her. That was interesting.
“My coat—that’s it hanging there above your head, where I put it before you took my seat.”
“’Tain’t your seat! How come it your seat?”
“I am not claiming it, mother, but just explaining how my coat got there—that’s all. No, it is your seat by the right of possession, and I should not ask you to move if I had to hang on the bell cord.”
“You make out lak you’re powerful perlite, but the way you drummers do nobudy—not even an ole woman lak me—kin tell what you’re up to.”
“I beg your pardon, madam, but I am not a drummer. I live one thousand miles from here, and am on my way home from the Democratic convention, at Denver, to see my wife and little girl. I have tried to behave myself and it grieves me to think that I offended you, but I am sure you will not say that I did it intentionally. I entered this train early this morning, at Kansas City, and picked this seat, where the sun would not shine on me, and occupied it. Later, you and your friend came in and captured it while I drank at the water cooler, and I had originally selected one that your good taste made you prefer to the many empty ones that were here when you came. That is the whole story. I wanted to see my time-table, and came for it. You took hold of my arm—something I never permit any woman but my wife to do—”
“You know that ain’t so,” declared the disputant hotly. “I never held your arm.”