stead, which the porter obligingly
brought.

Next there was a supposed case of poisoning, Jenkins in her trepidation
having administered three pink pellets from a bottle instead of two
white ones from a box. Five minutes' reign of terror after that mistake
brought the poor maid to a witless state that left her almost helpless.
Various trips were made to the dressing-room, at which times the old
lady's face was massaged, her grizzly hair rolled on crimping-pins, and
her shoulders rubbed with an evil-smelling liniment which permeated the
whole car. She seemed as oblivious to the presence of the other
passengers as if she were on a desert island, and, being somewhat deaf,
made Jenkins repeat her timid replies louder and louder until they were
almost screaming at each other.

Every one on the car was smiling broadly when at last she subsided
behind the curtains. The smiles grew to audible mirth when she confided
in a loud voice to Jenkins, stowed away in the berth above her, that she
hoped to goodness nobody on board would snore and keep her awake.

Jenkins's answer, floating tremulously down, convulsed the sleepy girls:
"Hi 'ope not, ma'am. Hit's a bad 'abit, ma'am, halmost, you might say,
han haffliction."

"What?" came in a thunderous voice from the lower berth, and Jenkins,
craning her head turtle-wise over the edge of her bed, called back in a
tremulous squeak: "Hi honly said as 'ow hit were a bad 'abit, ma'am!"

"Hump!" was the answer. "See that you don't do it yourself. I've got my
umbrella here ready to punch you if you do."

A titter ran from seat to seat. The girls, unable to stifle their
amusement any longer, seized their bags and hurried down the aisle to
the dressing-room, where, under cover of the rattle of the train, they
could laugh as freely as they pleased.

When Lloyd and Betty stole back to their berths a few minutes later,
they looked at each other with an amused smile. From the opposite
section came an unmistakable sound, long-drawn and penetrating as a
cross-cut saw. Madam was evidently asleep. Betty giggled, as from
Jenkins's perch came a gentle echo.

"'Hi honly said as 'ow hit were a bad 'abit, ma'am,'" whispered Lloyd.
"Wouldn't you love to jab the old lady herself with an umbrella?"

Gay, in the dressing-room, was carefully counting over her toilet
articles, as she put them back into her bag. "Soap-box, comb, nail-file,
tooth-powder--I haven't lost a thing this trip, Allison. I'm beginn