“It’s—it’s coming,” Will said. He just kept pulling his father’s coat. “I don’t want a new radio anyway,” he said.
Jiminies, you can’t hurry Mr. Dawson. He took it easy walking over into the station with Will and I after him. Then he went over to the news stand and bought a cigar and lighted it. I thought maybe he was mad about what Will did—breaking the rule like that, I mean. Then he went over to the ticket window and asked the man about the down trains next day. I guess Will and I didn’t know what to think. Will was terribly excited. When Mr. Dawson came out on the platform again he said,
“That the boy—the one sitting on the jigger? What’s his name?”
“His name is Dorin Smedley,” I said, “but we call him Dub.”
“No khaki huh?” Mr. Dawson said.
Then, all in a hurry, Will told his father all about Dub—all that we knew about him. The train was coming along but that didn’t seem to worry Mr. Dawson. It worried Will and me though. Mr. Dawson just kind of strolled over to the baggage truck and he screwed his cigar over into one end of his mouth and he looked awful kind of shrewd like. He held out his hand just like he would to a man and he said, “H’lo Dub.”
Dub jumped down because the train was puffing all ready to start but Mr. Dawson kind of smiling didn’t let go his hand, he just kept shaking it. Mrs. Dawson and Mabel came up, but Mr. Dawson just kept on shaking Dub’s hand. Poor Dub didn’t know what to make of it. All of a sudden the bell on the engine rang and the train started to move. A lot Mr. Dawson cared about the train! He travels around a lot and I guess he misses lots of trains—he should worry.
That’s the way he is, always fooling, kind of. He just kept hold of Dub’s hand and Dub tried to get away, but he couldn’t. And so he missed the train! “What’s all the hurry about, Dub?” Mr. Dawson asked him.
Jiminy crinkums, that man should worry about trains!