"I—are you quite sure that you're to be here?" Mary ventured, when Mrs. Collis had whisked into the compartment, and was ringing for some one to take down her bag, after the train had started. "I thought—I had this place to myself."
"Why, if you have, there must be a mistake," replied the American. "Have you taken both berths?"
"No," said Mary. "Only one. Are there two?"
"My, yes, of course. In some there are four. But this is one of the little ones. I expect"—and she smiled—"that you haven't made many long journeys?"
"I haven't travelled at all before," Mary answered, blushing under the eyes turned upon her.
"Well, you'll find it's all right, what I say," the American lady went on. "But"—and she lost interest in Mary—"aren't we silly? Miss Wardrobe had better come in here, where there's only one place, and my daughter and I'll take a compartment together, as the car seems pretty full."
"Please don't call me Miss Wardrobe!" exclaimed the golden-haired girl. "That's the eighth time. I've counted." As she spoke, her tiny dog yapped in a thin voice at the offender, its round eyes goggling.
"I hope you'll excuse me, I'm sure," returned the American, acidly.
"I must say, I really don't think mamma's had occasion to mention your name as many times as eight since we first had the pleasure of meeting," the charming wren flew to her mother's rescue. "But you've got such a difficult name."
"Anyhow, it isn't like everybody else's, which is something," retorted the girl who had been called "Miss Wardrobe."