“Second or third?” came again from the office, in rather an angry tone.
“Take what you can get,” whispered Anders, who, as his expenses were paid for him, saw no reason for being economical.
“All right, give me the whole thing,” said Björn, and pushed a bill in at the impatient voice.
“Two excursions, second. You can come back on the evening train, do you hear?” said the voice.
Björn received a number of silver coins for his bill. He took it all but one piece. “We can afford to tip to-day,” he said to his cousin, in the same loud voice.
The ticket seller put his head out of the opening. “Take your money!” he called angrily.
“All right,” said Björn, crestfallen. He put the coin in his pocket, and as they walked through the waiting rooms to the platform he muttered: “That villain of an innkeeper at home told me that if you want to ride comfortably on the railroad you must tip the conductors. But it doesn’t seem to go here.”
They entered the compartment, where sat a stout man, with close cropped hair, white neckband, and long black coat. His face was red and good-natured.
“Whew, it’s warm here,” said Björn, and opened a window. The stout man coughed. The engine whistled, and the train began to move.
“There she goes, d—— me,” said Anders.