ed curtains. Her
heart beat so loud that she thought it would certainly betray her.

"You must have had the nightmare," said the conductor, politely, trying
not to smile as the angry face, under its towel turban, glared out at
him.

"Nightmare!" blazed the irate old lady. "I'm no fool. Don't you suppose
that I know when I'm hit? I tell you somebody was trying to sandbag me.
I thought a Saratoga trunk had fallen in on me. It's your business to
take care of passengers on this train, and I intend to hold the company
responsible. I shall certainly sue the railroad for this shock to my
nervous system as soon as I get home. I have a weak heart and I can't
stand such performances as this."

[Illustration: "'I TELL YOU SOMEBODY WAS TRYING TO SANDBAG ME'"]

It took a long time to pacify her. Gay lay in her berth, shaking first
with fright and then with laughter. She could not go to sleep without
sharing her secret with the other girls, but she was afraid to trust
herself to speak. She had grown almost hysterical over the affair.
Finally she crept in beside Lloyd to whisper, brokenly: "_I_ am the
nightmare that sandbagged the old lady. _I_ am the Saratoga trunk that
fell on her. Oh, Lloyd, I'll never brag again. I had just told Allison I
hadn't lost a single thing this trip, and then I turned around and lost
myself. I got into the wrong berth. Oh! oh! It was so funny to see her,
all done up in that towel. It'll kill me if I can't stop laughing."

She crept back to her own side of the aisle again, and Lloyd got up to
repeat it to Betty and Allison, who passed it on to Kitty. It was nearly
half an hour before they stopped giggling over it, and then Kitty
started them all afresh by leaning out to say, in a stage whisper, as a
certain duet was renewed by Jenkins and her mistress, "'Hi honly said as
'ow hit were a bad 'abit.'"

It was snowing next morning, just a few flakes against the window-pane,
as they sat in the dining-car at breakfast, but the landscape grew
whiter as they whirled on toward home.

"Just as it ought to be for Christmas," declared Allison. "Oh, The
Beeches will look so lovely in the snow, and the big log fire will seem
so good, I can hardly wait to get there!"

"I know just how it's all going to be," exclaimed Kitty, wriggling
impatiently in her seat. "It will be this way, Gay. They'll all be down
at the station to meet us, mother and little Elise and Uncle Harry and
his dog. Aunt Allison will probably be