After S. Leacock
He stepped into the smoking compartment of the train, where I was sitting alone. He had on a long coat, and he carried a fifty-dollar suitcase that he put down on the seat. Then he saw me.
"Well! Well!" he said, and recognition broke out all over his face like morning sunlight.
Well! Well! I repeated.
"By Jove! You haven't changed a bit", he said.
Neither have you". I was made to answer.
And allthe time I was wondering who he was. I didn't know him from Adam; I couldn't recall him a bit. I don't mean that my memory is weak. But when it does happen that a name orfaceescapes I never loose, my tongue. I know just how to deal with the situation. It only needs coolness and intellect, and it all comes right.
My friend sat down. "It's a long time since we met," he said.
"A long time", t repeated sadly. I wanted him to feel that I too, had suffered from it.
"But it has gone very quickly",
"Like a flash", I said cheerfully.
"Strange", he said, How life goes on and we lose track of people, and things after. I often think about it. I sometimes wonder", he continued, "where all the old gang are gone to".
"So do I", I said. In fact I was wondering about it at the very moment. I always find in circumstances like these that a man begins sooner or later to talk of the "old gong" or "the boys" or "the crowd". That's where you have a chance to gather who he is.
"Do you ever go back to the oldplace?" - he asked.
"Never", I said firmly, I decided to keep my mouth shut, till I could discover where it was.
"No", he went on. "I suppose you'd hardly care to".
"Not now", I said very gently.
"I understand. I beg your pardon", he said and turned crimson with embarrassment. There was silence for a few moments.
Now I was beginning to understand things. There was evidently an old place somewhere to which I would hardlycare to go.
I did not want to displease my friend with my ignorance so I said:
"Where's Billy? Do you ever hear anything of Billy now?"
This is really a very safe line. I figure every old gang has a Billy in it.
"Yes", said my friend. "I saw him in Chicago last spring. He bought a little house on time. And, you know", here he began to laugh, "Billy's married!" I pretended to be very much amused and started to laugh too, because it is always supposed to be very funny if a man has got married. I had only 50 miles more to go.
It's not hard to laugh for fifty miles if you know how.
But my friend wasn't satisfied.
"I often meant to write to you", he said. "Especially when I heard of your loss."
I remained quiet. What had I lost? Was it money? And if so, how much?
"One can never get over a loss like that", he continued. I said nothing.
"Yes", the man went on, "death is always sad".
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Death! So it was death! I almost hicooughed with Joy. That was easy. One has only to sit quiet and wait to find out who is dead.
"Yes", I murmured, "very sad".
"Strong and bright to the last I suppose", he continued, very sympathetically.
"Yes", I said falling on sure ground, "able to sit up in bed end smoke within a few days of the end."
"What", he said, surprised, "Did your grandmother - "
My grandmother! That was it, was it?
"Pardon me," I said, "when I say smoked, I mean able to sit up and be smoked to, a habit she had". As I said the train came to a stop.
My friend looked out of the window.
"Great heaven!" he said, "I've missed my stop. Say, porter, how long do we stop here?"
"Just two minutes, sir", called a voice back.
My friend had polled out a bunch of keys and was trying to unlock the suitcase.
"I'll have to telegraph back or something" he exclaimed, "but my money is in the suitcase".
I was now afraid, that he would fail to get off.
"Here is the money," I said, pulling some Money out of my pocket.
"Thanks", he said. In his excitement he took all that I had.
"I'll just have time". He sprang from the trains I saw him through the window, he didn't seem going very fast.
I waited.
The porter a were calling "All aboard! All aboard!" There was the clang of a bell, a hiss of steam, and in a second the train was off.
"Idiot", I thought, "he's missed it", and there was his fifty-dollar suitcase lying on the seat.
Presently I heard the porter's voice again. He was guiding someone trough the car. "I left it in the seat behind my wife", said the angry voice of a stranger, a well-dressed man who put his head into the door of the compartment.
Then his face, too, beamed all at once with recognition. But it was not for me. It was for the fifty-dollar suitcase.
"Oh, there it is", he cried, seizing and carrying it off.
Now I saw it all! The old gang! Pete's marriage! My grandmother's death! And my money! And next time that I fall into talk with a stranger in a car, I shall not be so awfully clever.
Exercises
Answer the following questions:
1. Why did the story-teller pretend that he knew the man?
2. Why did the man try to make him believe that he was his friend?