"They couldn't nobody get sick in weather like this," says Bess.
"No," I says, "but you take a smooth Saturday afternoon and it generally always means a rough Sunday night."
"Ain't they no railroad between here and Chi?" ast Bishop.
"Not direct," I says. "You have to go to Lansing and then cut across to Fort Wayne. If you make good connections you can do it in a day and two nights, but most o' the way is through the copper ranges and the trains keeps gettin' later and later, and when they try to make up time they generally always slip offen the track and spill their contents."
"If it looks like a storm to-morrow night," says Bess, "we might wait over and go home Monday."
That idear scared Bishop more'n the thought of a wreck.
"Oh, no!" he says. "I got to be back on the job Monday mornin'."
"If it's as rough as I think it's goin' to be," says I, "you won't feel like rippin' off no scenarios Monday."
We landed and walked up the highest hill in Michigan to the hotel. I noticed that Miss Bessie carried her own suit-case.
"Well," I says, "I suppose you two kids would rather eat your supper by yourself, and I and the Missus will set at another table."