Then he began
to be especially annoying. He joked and wrestled with the porter, and on
every occasion pushed his wares at Zora, insisting on her buying.
"Ain't you got no money?" he asked. "Where you going?"
"Say," he whispered another time, "don't you want to buy these gold
spectacles? I found 'em and I dassen't sell 'em open, see? They're
worth ten dollars--take 'em for a dollar."
Zora sat still, keeping her eyes on the window; but her hands worked
nervously, and when he threw a book with a picture of a man and
half-dressed woman directly under her eyes, she took it and dropped it
out the window.
The boy started to storm and demanded pay, while the conductor glared at
her; but a white man in the conductor's seat whispered something, and
the row suddenly stopped.
A gang of colored section hands got on, dirty and loud. They sprawled
about and smoked, drank, and bought candy and cheap gewgaws. They eyed
her respectfully, and with one of them she talked a little as he
awkwardly fingered his cap.
As the day wore on Zora found herself strangely weary. It was not simply
the unpleasant things that kept happening, but the continued
apprehension of unknown possibilities. Then, too, she began to realize
that she had had nothing to eat. Travelling with Mrs. Vanderpool there
was always a dainty lunch to be had at call.
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