“OO-ooo,” breathed Peggy, rapturously, “can he get it for us?”
“Why, you can order anything on these good trains,” declared Katherine grandly. “A little later we’ll get some cards and look up two girls to play bridge—the train’s full of our girls and people from the colleges. Then we’ll go back to the observation car and—”
Peggy shivered blissfully. “My,” she said, “isn’t life full of experiences, though?”
————
“Shall we wear our hats into the diner, Peggy?” asked Katherine, importantly, when the windows of the train were squares of blackness speckled by flying snow whirling past and the waiter had gone through calling out, “Dinner is served in the dining car in the rear ... first-call.”
“Is that the thing to do?” hesitated Peggy—“and must we wear our coats, too? I’d rather put our hats into these paper hat bags the porter brought a while ago, and leave our coats here, and—and just go back in a real homelike appearance.”
“All right,” said Katherine, smoothing back her pretty hair before the tiny oblong mirror in their section, “and, oh, Peggy, how hungry I am!”
With the excitement of a brand new experience shining in their eyes, their youthful heads held erect as they walked, and their little serge skirts swishing over their silk petticoats, the two girls went down the aisle in growing and pleasant consciousness of being observed by many, through car after car of the long train in their hungry search for the diner.
Each of the vestibules was snow-powdered and slippery and cold—oh, so cold, and it seemed that always just as they came to one the train lurched and shook so as to nearly knock them off their feet.
And then, all of a sudden, there they were in the diner itself—but what was this mob—this perfect horde of other people doing there standing patiently lined up against the long narrow wall before they came to the table part of the car?