"I hate to think what he'll do to us when he sees what we've done to him."
"Oh, he won't dare to fight in the presence of his little bridey-widey. Do you see the porter in there?"
"Yes, suppose he objects."
"Well, we have the tickets. We'll claim it's our section till Mallory and Mrs. Mallory come."
They moved on into the car, where the porter confronted them. When he saw that they were loaded with bundles of all shapes and sizes, he waved them away with scorn:
"The emigrant sleepa runs only Toosdays and Thuzzdays."
From behind the first mass of packages came a brisk military answer:
"You black hound! About face—forward march! Section number one."
The porter retreated down the aisle, apologizing glibly. "'Scuse me for questionin' you, but you-all's baggage looked kind o' eccentric at first."
The two young men dumped their parcels on the seats and began to unwrap them hastily.