"Laikly she is my--discovery," ventured the colored man striving to be polite and finding it difficult to treat the situation seriously. "Come right along."
At the other end of the car Jane stood stock still, as she read the sign "Gentlemen Smoking." But Ferd promptly assured her.
"Not a soul in here but the lady. Not a man could get in, and there was some kicking. All right for ladies to smoke. Lots of 'em do, but they has to have their own private quarters." He was opening the door of the smoking room with that caution usually displayed if a cat is expected to jump. Jane followed, and once within the room she sprang to the curled up figure, sleeping peacefully, in the big cushioned chair. It was Judith!
"Judith!" Jane called. "Judy, wake up! Come!"
The unconscious girl slowly--too slowly, came back to the realm of directed thought. She was awake at last.
"Why--Jane--" she drawled. "What's the fuss? I was dreaming about wonderful cigars."
Both porters stepped back respectfully--or to laugh safely. Dreaming of cigars appealed to their sense of humor.
"Judith--this is the gentlemen's smoking room," Jane breathed, trying hard to drag the still drowsy girl to her feet. "How ever did you get in here?"
By this time Judith realized something was wrong. She gathered the folds of her Burgundy robe tight around her, and tried to inflict a severe look on the giggling porters.
"You sure did hol' de fort, Miss," Ferd insisted on saying. "The gent-men had to go without their smoke this morning."