“Classy bunch of cattlemen we’ve got to go with. Not!… My name’s Morton.”
“I’m awful glad to meet you, Mr. Morton. My name’s Wrenn.”
“Glad to be off at last, ain’t you?”
“Golly! I should say I am!”
“So’m I. Been waiting for this for years. I’m a clerk for the P. R. R. in N’ York.”
“I come from New York, too.”
“So? Lived there long?”
“Uh-huh, I—” began Mr. Wrenn.
“Well, I been working for the Penn. for seven years now. Now I’ve got a vacation of three months. On me. Gives me a chance to travel a little. Got ten plunks and a second-class ticket back from Glasgow. But I’m going to see England and France just the same. Prob’ly Germany, too.”
“Second class? Why don’t you go steerage, and save?”