"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?"

"Oh, got to come back like a gentleman. You know. You're from
New York, too, eh?"

"Yes, I'm with an art-novelty company on Twenty-eighth Street.
I been wanting to get away for quite some time, too.... How are
you going to travel on ten dollars?"

"Oh, work m' way. Cinch. Always land on my feet. Not on my
uppers, at that. I'm only twenty-eight, but I've been on my
own, like the English fellow says, since I was twelve.... Well,
how about you? Traveling or going somewhere?"

"Just traveling. I'm glad we're going together, Mr. Morton.
I don't think most of these cattlemen are very nice. Except for
the old Jews. They seem to be fine old coots. They make you
think of--oh--you know--prophets and stuff. Watch 'em, over
there, making tea. I suppose the steamer grub ain't kosher.
I seen one on the Joy Line saying his prayers--I suppose he
was--in a kind of shawl."