The boy observed the questioner reflectively for a moment. Then: “What trains have you got?” he inquired politely.
“Come on, Jimmy,” said Dud, tugging at his friend’s sleeve. “He’s too fresh.”
“Thought you might be a stranger, and I was trying to help you,” said James Townsend Logan stiffly. “You find your own train, will you?”
They had emerged into the concourse now and the stranger stopped and put his bag down, facing Jimmy with a quizzical smile. “I guess you’re an artist,” he said. “Making believe to get mad would fool most any fellow. What is it now? Eskimo Twins? Or——”
“That’ll be about all for you!” said Jimmy hotly. “If I’m an Eskimo you’re——”
“Back up, Harold! You don’t savvy. Far be it from me to take a chance on your nationality——”
“Oh, dry up!” growled Jimmy, turning away.
“Well, but you’re not going, are you?” called the stranger in surprised tones. Jimmy was going, and Dud was going with him. And on the way to the gate they exchanged short but succinct verdicts on the youth behind.
“Flip kid!” sputtered Jimmy.
“Crazy!” said Dud, disgustedly.