"No back talk, Hyphenated-Jones," said Duncan facetiously. "Just crawl behind that French novel and don't let me hear from you again."
"I will if you will shut up about Chicago; you make me weary."
"Anything to keep you quiet," answered Duncan.
The four friends gradually settled themselves behind afternoon papers or novels, and remained silent. The train rattled on through small suburban towns and now and then drew up before a dainty, vine-covered station, with low walls and high gabled roofs, where the brakeman put his head inside the door and called off some name in unintelligible accents. People got out hurriedly, their arms filled with packages of all descriptions, the door slammed, the train started, the newsboy passed through with the papers, pop-corn, puzzles, and everything else that nobody wanted, the conductor poked dozing passengers for their tickets, the atmosphere grew blue with smoke, and the minutes passed with the exasperating slowness of time spent on a suburban train.
"I say, Duncan," said Waterman, yawning behind his paper, "how would you like to take this trip twice a day?"
"I'd rather die a natural death and be done with it, if I did not have a private opinion that Hades is a suburban town, where the Devil tortures his victims by making them bolt breakfast in two minutes and run to catch a train, only to be brought back again after dark just in time to sleep and take the next train in the morning."
"That's the joy of living in the country," replied Waterman. "However, I can tell you how to pass the time to-day."
"Go back and talk to the Simpson girls. I saw them getting into the last car, and I think they are going out to Osgood's, too."
"Better send Rennsler to look after them," suggested Waterman; "I think I can recommend him as a safe and suitable chaperon."
"What's that?" said Van Vort, glancing over his paper at the sound of his name.
"We think you had better go back and talk to the charming Miss Simpson," said Duncan.
"Which? The one with freckles, or the one who squints."
"From such a fate, good Lord deliver us," answered Van Vort contritely.
"Your prayer is answered," said Duncan, "for here we are at the getting-off place. I never remember the name of it, so I always book through to Morristown, and look out for that red barn over there."