“I am not claiming it, mother, but just explaining how my coat got there--that’s all. No, it is your seat by the right of possession, and I should not ask you to move if I had to hang on the bell cord.” “You make out lak you’re powerful perlite, but the way you drummers do nobudy--not even an ole woman lak me--kin tell what you’re up to.” “I beg your pardon, madam, but I am not a drummer. I live one thousand miles from here, and am on my way home from the Democratic convention, at Denver, to see my wife and little girl. I have tried to behave myself and it grieves me to think that I offended you, but I am sure you will not say that I did it intentionally. I entered this train early this morning, at Kansas City, and picked this seat, where the sun would not shine on me, and occupied it. Later, you and your friend came in and captured it while I drank at the water cooler, and I had originally selected one that your good taste made you prefer to the many empty ones that were here when you came. That is the whole story. I wanted to see my time-table, and came for it. You took hold of my arm--something I never permit any woman but my wife to do--” “You know that ain’t so,” declared the disputant hotly. “I never held your arm.” “Look now, my dear, and see if you have not my wrist.” That was the blow that killed mother, for she still held my wrist, although I had dropped the folder. Here a bit of color mounted the pale, wrinkled cheeks. “I love to see a pretty woman blush,” said I, smiling from ear to ear. “You shet your mouth. I ain’t blushin’! I wish my brother was here. I’d make him crack your head.” “Your brother--where is your husband or your son?” “I ain’t got none, as I have never been married.” “O, I see; you are still enjoying single bliss--a charming old maid?” “It’s none of your bizness what I am. You’ve got nuthin’ to do with me.” Passengers several seats back and front were listening to the controversy, which had been fast and sharp, and enjoying it. “Well, good soul, I will leave you if you will give me my time-table.” “It’s none of yourn, but take it an’ go.” “Not until you are convinced that it is mine.” “It’s mine, but you kin have it.” “Just one word? Did you write your name on your book?” “No, I didn’t.” “Well, if you will look inside there you will find my name. If you do not I shall apologize and give you a basket of candy.” “I don’t want your candy.” “I know you don’t, but you will look for my name?” As she opened the book and revealed the name, I said: “That’s my handwriting, as you will see by comparing it with this on my ticket.” “Now look on page forty and see if the table from Kansas City to St. Louis is not marked.” She was convinced that I owned the book.