"I'm from Eastrod," Haze said, "I'm from Eastrod, Tennessee."
"That isn't on this line," the porter said. "You on the wrong train if you counting on going to any such place as that."
"I'm going to Taulkinham," Haze said. "I was raised in Eastrod."
"You want your berth made up now?" the porter asked.
"Huh?" Haze said. "Eastrod, Tennessee; ain't you ever heard of Eastrod?"
The porter wrenched one side of the seat flat. "I'm from Chicago," he said. He jerked the shades down on either window and wrenched the other seat down. Even the back of his neck was like. When he bent over, it came out in three bulges. He was from Chicago. "You standing in the middle of the aisle. Somebody gonna want to get past you," he said, suddenly turning on Haze.
"I reckon I'll go sit down some," Haze said, blushing.
He knew people were staring at him as be went back to his section. Mrs. Hosen was looking out the window. She turned and eyed him suspiciously; then she said it hadn't snowed yet, had it? and relaxed into a stream of talk. She guessed her husband was getting his own supper
