Mr. Armorer got out, and they left the elevator to its fate.
It was a long way, through many rooms, downstairs. Shuey would
have beguiled the way by describing the rooms, but Armorer
was in a raging hurry and urged his guide over the ground.
Once they were delayed by a bundle of stuff in front of a door;
and after Shuey had laboriously rolled the great roll away,
he made a misstep and tumbled over, rolling it back,
to a tittering accompaniment from the sewing-girls in the room.
But he picked himself up in perfect good temper and kicked the roll
ten yards. "Girls is silly things," said the philosopher Shuey,
"but being born that way it ain't to be expected otherwise!"

He had the friendly freedom of his class in the West.
He praised Mrs. Ellis's gymnastics, and urged Armorer to stay
over a morning train and see a "real pretty boxing match"
between Mr. Lossing and himself.

"Oh, he boxes too, does he?" said Armorer.

"And why on earth would he groan-like?" wondered Shuey to himself.
"He does that, sir," he continued aloud; "didn't Mrs. Ellis ever
tell you about the time at the circus? She was there herself,
with three children she borrowed and an unreasonable gyurl,
with a terrible big screech in her and no sense.
Yes, sir, Mr. Lossing he is mighty cliver with his hands!
There come a yell of 'Lion loose! lion loose!' at that circus,
just as the folks was all crowding out at the end of it, and them
that had gone into the menagerie tent came a-tumbling and howling back,
and them that was in the circus tent waiting for the concert
(which never ain't worth waiting for, between you and me!)