“I have baggage tags!” interrupted the boy. “If you are only visiting you’ll want to send your trunks back and you’d better put a tag on. I’ll show you!” Quickly he opened the box he carried, slung by a strap about his neck. The other Bunker children, crowding to the door, saw in the box many of the things the boy had named—pins, needles, some combs and brushes, and other things.
The boy took out a package of baggage tags, each tag having a short piece of cord attached to it. These he held out to Norah, at the same time saying:
“Use these and you never lose any baggage.”
“We take our baggage in the automobile,” said Rose.
“Well, maybe a piece might fall out and if it had a tag on it you wouldn’t lose it,” said the boy, who spoke in rather a strange manner, like a foreigner who had recently learned English.
“I tell you we don’t want anything,” said Norah, speaking a little more sharply.
“What about some letter paper and envelopes?” persisted the boy. “You could write, couldn’t you, and I sell ’em cheap——”
“No! No! We don’t want a thing, I tell you!” and Norah spoke very sharply and began to close the door.
“Huh, I guess it wouldn’t be much good to sell you letter paper,” sneered the boy. “You’re so mean you haven’t any friends that’d want you to write!”
The door was closed but the words came through.