“Time to get up, Josephine. Breakfast is ready and your section-mate will want the place fixed up. May I take you to the dressing-room?”
“Our colleen’s one of them good-natured kind that wakes up wide to-once and laughin’,” had been big Bridget’s boast even when her charge was but an infant, nor had the little girl outgrown her very sensible babyish custom. She responded to the stranger’s greeting with a merry smile and “Good morning!” and was instantly ready for whatever was to come.
She was full of wonder over the cramped little apartment which all the women travellers used in succession as a lavatory, and it may be that this wonder made her submit without hindrance to the rather clumsy brushing of her curls which Red Kimono attempted.
“’Xcuse me, that isn’t the way mamma or big Bridget does. They put me in the bath, first off; then my hair, and then my clothes. Haven’t you got any little girls to your house, Red Kimono?” inquired the young traveller.
“No, dear, I haven’t even a house;” answered the lady, rather sadly. “But your own dear mamma would have to forego the bath on a railway sleeper, so let’s make haste and give the other people their rightful use of this place.”
By this time several women had collected in the narrow passage leading to the dressing-room, and were watching through the crack of its door till Josephine’s toilet should be completed and their own chance could come.
“What makes all them folks out there look so cross, dear Red Kimono?”
“Selfishness, dearie. And hunger. First come best fed, on a railway dining-car, I fancy. There. You look quite fresh and nice. Let us go at once.”
As they passed down the aisle where Bob was swiftly and deftly making the sections ready for the day’s occupancy, Josephine was inclined to pause and watch him, but was hurried onward by her new friend, who advised:
“Don’t loiter, Josephine. If we don’t get to table promptly we’ll miss our seats. Hurry, please.”