They were trying to lure one of us into a trap.

They wished one of us to leap forward with a glad, eager, artless shout--"_I'll_ be the other brakeman!" At once they would jeer coarsely, slapping one another's backs and affecting the utmost merriment that this one of us should have been equal to so monstrous a pretension.

This would last a long time.
They would take up other matters only for the sake of coming back to it with sudden explosions of contemptuous mirth.
Happily, the one of us most liable to this ignominy remained unbelieving to the bitter end; even did he pretend to a yawning sort of interest in a book carelessly picked up.

The Sullivans had been foiled at every turn, and now we were relieved from the covert but not less pointed insult of their presence.
Mrs.Delia, her morning's work done, came out dressed for church, bidding me a briskly sad little "Good marnin', _Major!_" I responded pleasantly, for in a way I liked Mrs.Sullivan, who came each day from her bare little house under the hill to make a home for Solon and our children.

At least she was kind to them and kept them plump.