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The Range Dwellers by B. M. Bower
page 13 of 151 (08%)
me, but it wasn't pleasant. It never occurred to me, that night, to wonder
how dad felt about it; but I've often thought of it since.

I had a section to myself, so I could sulk undisturbed; dad was not small,
at any rate, and, though he hadn't let me have his car, he meant me to be
decently comfortable. That first night I slept without a break; the second
I sat in the smoker till a most unrighteous hour, cultivating the
acquaintance of a drummer for a rubber-goods outfit. I thought that,
seeing I was about to mingle with the working classes, I couldn't begin
too soon to study them. He was a pretty good sort, too.

The rubber-goods man left me at Seattle, and from there on I was at the
tender mercies of my own thoughts and an elderly lady with a startlingly
blond daughter, who sat directly opposite me and was frankly disposed to
friendliness. I had never given much time to the study of women, and so
had no alternative but to answer questions and smile fatuously upon the
blond daughter, and wonder if I ought to warn the mother that "clothes do
not make the man," and that I was a black sheep and not a desirable
acquaintance. Before I had quite settled that point, they left the train.
I am afraid I am not distinctly a chivalrous person; I hummed the Doxology
after their retreating forms and retired into myself, with a feeling that
my own society is at times desirable and greatly to be chosen.

After that I was shy, and nothing happened except that on the last evening
of the trip, I gave up my sole remaining five dollars in the diner, and
walked out whistling softly. I was utterly and unequivocally strapped.
I went into the smoker to think it over; I knew I had started out with
a hundred or so, and that I had considered that sufficient to see me
through. Plainly, it was not sufficient; but it is a fact that I looked
upon it as a joke, and went to sleep grinning idiotically at the thought
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