“I don’t see where all the stuff is going, do you?”
Joe shook his head. “No, I don’t. Maybe they’ll let you put about half of it in the corridor.”
“It’s nothing to joke about,” Myron grumbled. “We won’t be able to move without barking our shins. I’d like to know how big mother thinks those rooms are!”
“I’m not worrying about my shins,” said Joe placidly, adding when Myron looked a question: “I won’t be there, you know.”
“Oh!” said the other. Silence again prevailed. The trucks trundled from box-car to platform and a nearby engine let off steam with disconcerting suddenness. Finally: “I shouldn’t think you’d want to live in that room if it’s like you say it is,” observed Myron. “Only one window and—and all.”
“Oh, it ain’t so worse. Merriman wants me to go over and take half his place, but that part of town’s pretty fierce.”
“Great Scott! Why, that’s an awful hole he’s in!”
“Well, with something more in it, it wouldn’t be bad.”
“I don’t see——” Myron paused and was busy for a moment detaching a splinter from beside him. “I don’t see,” he continued, “why you want to move anyhow.”
Joe turned slowly and observed him in mild surprise. “Well, considering that you invited me to,” he answered, “that’s a funny crack to make.”