“Now look on page forty and see if the table from Kansas City to St. Louis is not marked.”
She was convinced that I owned the book.
“Now, madam, if you will look over there on top of your telescope you will find your table, right where you put it when you came in. I am sorry to have troubled you, and as we journey through this vale of tears if I can ever do you a turn you may call on me. I like your spunk.”
“You go on about your bizness an’ let me erlone an’ I’ll ’tend to mine. If you’ll throw them yaller shoes in the river an’ give that jimswinger to some nigger you’ll look putty decent.”
When the old damsel got up to leave the train, I hurried up, like a young gallant, grabbed up her luggage and carried it to the door before she had time to protest.
“Good-bye, sweetheart,” I shouted, as the train pulled out, and in reply she yelled: “Shet your mouth, smarty!”
AFRAID OF THE FROWZY BLONDE
“Why don’t you slide in by the frowzy blonde?” asked Sanford of Roark, who backed himself up against a seat in the first-class car, as the train came down the mountain.