rom there, and says that--"

"Railroad ticket!" said the baggageman with exaggerated patience.

I began again to feel in various pockets.

"She says," continued Gray-eyes, "that she never met more charming
people or had better things to eat. She loves the southern accent too."

I don't know how the tickets got into my upper right vest pocket; I
never carry tickets there; but that is where I found them.

"Do you like it?" asked the other girl of me.

"Like what?"

"Why, the southern accent."

"Any valuation?" the baggageman demanded.

"Yes," I answered them both at once.

"Oh, you _do_?" cried Violet-eyes, incredulously.

"Why, yes; I think--"

"Put down the amount and sign here," the baggageman directed, pushing a
slip toward me and placing a pencil in my hand.

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.

"What train, boss?" he asked.

"The Congressional Limited."

"You got jus' four minutes."

"Goodness!" cried Gray-eyes.

"I thought," said Violet-eyes as we accelerated our pace, "that you
prided yourself on always having time to spare?"

"Usually I do," I answered, "but in this case--"

"What car?" the porter interrupted tactfully.

Again I felt for my tickets. This time they were in my change pocket. I
can't imagine how I came to put them there.

"But in this case--_what_?" The violet eyes looked threatening as their
owner put the question.

"Seat seven, car three," I told the porter firmly as we approached the
gate. Then, turning to my dangerous and love