through a thoroughfare. They talked loudly and laughed and joked, and if they did not smoke they carried their lighted cigars. At her they stared and made comments, and one of them came and lounged almost over her seat, inquiring where she was going.
She did not reply; she neither looked nor stirred, but kept whispering to herself with something like awe: ‚ÄúThis is what they must endure‚ÅÝ‚Äîmy poor people!‚Äù
At Lynchburg a newsboy boarded the train with his wares. The conductor had already appropriated two seats for himself, and the newsboy routed out two colored passengers, and usurped two other seats. 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?”
‚ÄúSay,‚Äù he whispered another time, ‚Äúdon‚Äôt you want to buy these gold spectacles? I found ‚Äôem and I dassen‚Äôt sell ‚Äôem open, see? They‚Äôre worth ten dollars‚ÅÝ‚Äîtake ‚Äôem for a dollar.‚Äù
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.