Twice-a-week plain dealer. (Cresco, Howard County, Iowa) 1895-1913, 1912-06-11

IRONY:
well" he drawled, II might tell
the conducta you're ready. And meb.
be he'd start the train. But the time.
table says ten-thutty."
He watched the effect Of his satire,
but 1t fell back unheeded from the
granite dome of the Englishman,
whose only comment was:
"Oh, never mind. I'll wait"
The porter cast his eyes up in de-
spair. and turned away, once more to
be recalled.
"Oh, pawtah!"
"Yassah!"
Il think we'll put on my slippahs."
"Will we?"
you might hand me that large bag.
No, stupid, the othah one You might
open It. No, it's in the othah one. All,
that's it. You may set it down"
Mr.. Wedgewood brought forth q
soft cap and pair of red slippers.
The porter made another effort to
escape, his thoughts as black as his
face. Again the relentless recall
ooh. pawtah. think We'll unbutton
my boots
He was too weak to murrur "Yas.
sah.' He simply fell on one knee
and got to work.
There was witness to his helpless
rage-a newcomer, the American
counterpart Of the Englishman in all
that makes travel difficult for the fel.
low travellers. Ira Lathrop was zeal.
Gus to resent anyt hing short of per-
lection, quick and loud of complaint,
apparently impossible to please.
In everything else he was the op-
posite Of the Englishman. He was
burly, middle-aged rough, careless in
attire, careless of speech-as uncouth
and savage as one can we'll be who Is
plainly man of means.
1t was not enough that freebcrn
AfroAmerican should be caught kneel.
ing to an Englishman. But when he
had escaped this penance. and ad-
vanced Hospitality to the newcomer.
he must be greeted with snari.
Say. are you the porter of this car.
or that mans nurse?'
Il can't tell yet. What's 20 num-
ba. please?"
The answer was the ticket Tho
porter screwed up his eyes to read
the pencilled scrawl
"Numba sem. Heqh she is. boss"
Right next to lot of women, Ill
bet. Couldn't you put me in the mems
end Of the car?"
Not ve'y well, sub. reckon tho
cab is done sold out
With growl of rage, Ira Lathrop
slammed into the seat his entire hand
baggage, one ancient and rusty valise.
The porter gazed upon him With in
creased depression. The passenger
list had opened inauspiciously with
two OF the worst types of travellers
the Anglo-Saxon race has developed.
But their anger was not their worst
trait in the porter's eyes. He was, in
a limited way, an expert in human
character.
When you meet stranger you re-
veal your own character in what you
ask about his. With some, the first
question Is, Who are his people2"
With others, What has he achfeved?"
With others. How much is he WORTH"
Each gauges his cordially according
to his estimate.
The porter was not curious on any
Of these points. He showed demo
cratic Indifference to them. His ono
vital inquiry was:
"How much will he tip?"
His inspection of his first two
charges promised small returns. He
buttoned up his cordially, and de-
termined to waste upon them the IT.
reducible minimum Of attention.
1t would take at least a bridal
couple to retsore the balance. But
bridal couples in their first bloom
rarely fell to the lot Of that porter, for
what bridal couple wants to lock It.
self in with crowd of passengers for
the first seventytwo hours of welded
bliss?
The porter banished the hope az
vanity. Little he knew how eagerly
the young castaways from that
wrecked taxicab desired to be bridal
couple, and to catch this train.
But the Englishman was FESTIVE
again:
"Pawtah! l say. pawtabr
"YasS2hi"