CHAPTER XI
A HOLD-ON IN NEW YORK
“My! Isn’t it hard to hang on!” breathed Tavia, clinging to Dorothy, as the subway train swung rapidly around the curves. As usual the morning express was crowded to overflowing, and the “overflowers” were squeezed tightly together on the platforms. Ned held Aunt Winnie by the arm and looked daggers at the complacent New Yorkers who sat behind the morning papers, unable to see any persons who might want their seats.
“Such unbearable air! It always makes me faint,” said Aunt Winnie, weakly.
“Let’s get out as quickly as possible,” said Dorothy, “the top of a ’bus for mine!”
“So this is a subway train,” exclaimed Tavia, as she was lurched with much force against an athletic youth, who simply braced himself on his feet, and saved Tavia from falling.
“The agony will be over in a second,” exclaimed Ned, as the guard yelled in a most bewildering way, “next stop umphgetoughly!” and another in the middle of the train, screamed in a perfectly unintelligent manner, “next stop fothburgedinskt!”
“What did he say?” said Tavia, wonderingly.
“He must have said Forty-second Street,” said Aunt Winnie, “that I know is the next stop.”
“I would have to ride on indefinitely,” said Tavia, “I could never understand such eloquence.”
“There,” said Dorothy, readjusting herself, “I expected to be hurled into someone’s lap sooner or later, but I didn’t expect it so soon.”