He had seen the trainmen lift up the bottoms of the seats and lay them lengthwise of the car. He did this, and soon made four fairly comfortable beds. The two nearest the stove he gave to the boys. He indicated the next one was for Mary, and the one further down toward the middle of the car was for himself.
“You can all go to bed right away,” he said when he had made his preparations. The two boys decided to accept this advice. Mary said she would stay up a little longer and talk with Henry.
“You can’t undress,” she said to the two boys. “You’ll have to sleep as you are.” She sat down in one of the car seats; Philip knelt down at one knee and George at the other. The girl, who was barely fifteen had already taken her mother’s place. She laid her hand on each bent head and listened while one after the other the boys said their prayers. She kissed them good-night, saw them comfortably laid out on the big cushions with their overcoats for pillows and turned away.
“Say,” began Philip, “you forgot something, Mary.”
“What have I forgotten, dear?”
“Why, it’s Christmas Eve and we must hang up our stockings.”
Mary threw up her hands. “I am afraid this is too far away for Santa Claus. He won’t know that we are out here,” she said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Henry, thinking rapidly, “let them hang them up.”
Mary looked at him in surprise. “They haven’t any to hang up,” she said. “We can’t take those they’re wearing.”
“You should have thought of that,” wailed Philip, “before you brought us here.”