I obeyed. The baggageman took the slip and went off to a little desk. I
judged that he had finished with me for the moment.

"But don't you think," my fair inquisitor continued, "that the southern
girls pile on the accent awfully, because they know it pleases men?"

"Perhaps," I said. "But then, what better reason could they have for
doing so?"

"Listen to that!" she cried to her companion. "Did you ever hear such
egotism?"

"He's nothing but a man," said Gray-eyes scornfully. "I wouldn't be a
man for--"

"A dollar and eighty-five cents," declared the baggageman.

I paid him.

"I wouldn't be a man for anything!" my fair friend finished as we
started to move off.

"I wouldn't have you one," I told her, opening the concourse door.

"_Hay!_" shouted the baggageman. "Here's your ticket and your checks!"

I returned, took them, and put them in my pocket. Again we proceeded
upon our way. I was glad to leave the baggageman.

This time the porter meant to take no chances.