"No. I expect nobody to meet me," Janice told her quite sadly. She did not care to take the woman into her complete confidence, although she seemed to be a very pleasant person.
The black-eyed woman lent her a magazine during the evening, as the train rumbled on across New York State. She was friendly, but not too pressing in her attentions and certainly Janice was unsuspicious.
At nine o'clock the porter began to arrange the berths. Janice went to the ladies' room and found the foreign-looking woman there. As the girl, in her dressing-sack which she had taken out of her bag, combed out her hair, the sharp, black eyes of her fellow-passenger spied something.
"You carry something valuable there?" she said, touching lightly with her finger the packet of banknotes the girl had pinned to the bosom of her waist. "And with only a common pin? Ach! that is unsafe, my dear."
Janice had folded the bills in a silk handkerchief; but of course the woman could feel just what the crisp notes were.
"I think they will be all right," the girl said, shrinking a little from the woman's touch, yet without feeling any real fear of her or of her intentions.
"See!" the other said as though wishing only to be helpful. "I haf a big safety pin here in my bag—see? We will use it to fasten your packet—soh. Iss that not much better?"
Janice could only thank her and smile. Really one could not take offense at such a kind act nor be suspicious of so kindly a person.
Having lost her previous night's sleep it was not strange that Janice should sleep soundly, even on this rushing train. Occasionally she aroused to the knowledge of the wheels clattering over switches, or hollowly roaring as the train crossed a long trestle. The night sped—and the train with it. She was far, far away from Polktown when she awoke.
Again her berth mate was before her in the dressing room. "Iss your money still safe, my dear?" the black-eyed woman asked.