"I don't see anything the matter with 'em.

I ride in em." Thorsen was a heavy, dusty, tobacco-bestrewn individual of sixty-six, who was a little dull but genial.

He was in the paint business, and always wore a very light steel-gray suit much crinkled in the seat and arms.
"Perhaps that's what's the matter with them, Albert," chirped up Solon Kaempfaert, one of his cronies on the board.
The sally drew a laugh.
"Oh, I don't know.

I see the rest of you on board often enough." "Why, I tell you what's the matter with them," replied Kaffrath.
"They're dirty, and they're flimsy, and the windows rattle so you can't hear yourself think.

The track is no good, and the filthy straw we keep in them in winter is enough to make a person sick.