We certainly made a great
deal of it. Momma and I, looking at our fellow travellers, at once
decided that the Misses Bingham had been a little hasty. The fat
gentleman, who wore a straw hat very far back, and meant to enjoy
himself, was certainly our fellow-citizen. So was his wife, and
brother-in-law. So were a bride and bridegroom on the box seat--nothing
less than the best of everything for an American honeymoon--and so was a
solitary man with a short cut bristly beard, a slouch hat, a pink cotton
shirt, and a celluloid collar. But there was an indescribable something
about all the rest that plainly showed they had never voted for a
president or celebrated a Fourth of July. I was still revolving it in my
mind when the fat gentleman, who had been thinking of the same thing,
said to his neighbour on the other side, a person of serious appearance
in a black silk hat, apropos of the line he had crossed by, "I may be
wrong, but I shouldn't have put you down to be an American."
"Oh, I guess I am," replied the serious man, "but not the United States
kind."
"British North," suggested the fat gentleman, with a smile that
acknowledged Her Majesty.
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