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“Possibly, just a little; not worth mentioning. Here, dear, climb into this chair,” was the lady’s hasty reply.

“What a cute table! Just like hotel ones, only littler. It’s dreadful wobbly, though. It makes my head feel funny. I—oh! I’m—I guess—I’m sick!”

The lady shivered quite as visibly as poor Josephine. The dining-car was the last one of the long train, and swayed from side to side in a very unpleasant manner. The motion did not improve anybody’s appetite, and the grown-up traveller was now vexed with herself for befriending the childish one.

“She was nothing to me. Why should I break over my fixed rules of looking out for number one and minding my own business? Well, I’ll get through this meal somehow, and then rid my hands of the matter. I’m not the only woman in our car. Let some of the others take a chance. The idea! sending a little thing like that to travel alone. It’s preposterous—perfectly preposterous.”

Unconsciously she finished her thought aloud, and Josephine heard her, and asked: