Having, for reasons of economy, elected to travel in a “tourist car,” which in reality differs from the more expensive sleeping-cars only in finishings and furnishings, Phil and Ted, after bidding their friends good-bye, set about arranging their luggage and making themselves comfortable for the fifteen-hundred-mile journey.
Every section in the car was taken by people who, like themselves, were going West to new homes or to visit friends, and from time to time the boys stole glances at them.
“They look decent enough,” whispered Phil, in surprise.
“Why shouldn’t they?” demanded his brother. “Just because people choose to travel in a tourist car to save a few dollars—and not so few at that—is no reason why they are not decent. Right here is where I am going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get angry.”
“‘Out of the mouths of babes!’” began Phil.
“You can’t stop me.”
“Then why don’t you begin?”
“I’m afraid you won’t like it.”
“I expect to find a lot of things in the next few months that I won’t like, so fire away.”
“It’s this. You’re a bit of a snob. Now don’t interrupt. You know as well as I do that if I hadn’t prevented you, you would have given Captain Perkins a snub when he said he was going ashore with us, and after all his patience with and kindness to us.”