“I shall report you!” said the youth, loftily.
“Do! It won’t be the first time I’ve been reported—my good fellow!”
The youth flushed and, taking his valise, left the car to enter the small railway station. Several other passengers, including Joe, did the same, for the car was hot and stuffy.
Joe took a seat near one where the modish young man set down his queer valise. Some of the other passengers, after leaving their baggage inside, went out on the platform to stroll about. Joe noted that the young man had gone to the telegraph office to send a message.
Our hero having nothing else to do, proceeded to look over more of his baseball information. He was deep in a study of batting averages when he was aware that someone stood in front of him.
It was the young man, who had his valise open, and on his face was a puzzled expression, mingled with one of anger.
“I say now! I say!” exclaimed the young chap. “This won’t do! It won’t do at all, you know!” and he looked sharply at Joe.
“Are you speaking to me?” asked the young pitcher. “If you are I don’t know what it is that won’t do—and I don’t care.”
“It won’t do at all, you know!” went on the young man, speaking with what he probably intended to be an English accent. “It won’t do!”