"Oh! don't open that one; there's a lady in there," cried Mrs. March; but she was too late. Ben had thrown the curtains wide open.
The same angry voice as before called out:—
"I wish you'd let my curtain alone. What are you about?"
"Done made a mistake this time, sure," said Ben, composedly drawing the curtains together again; but not before Mrs. March and Nelly and Rob had had time to see into the bed, and had seen that it held the mother with five children. There they all lay as snug as you please: the three little ones packed like herrings in a box, across the foot of the bed, and the two others on the inside; and the mother lying on the outer edge almost in the aisle. As Ben pushed back the curtains, she muttered:—
"There ain't any room to spare in this berth, if that's what you're looking for."
Rob and Nelly gave a smothered laugh at this.
"Hush, children!" whispered Mrs. March. "You wouldn't like to be laughed at."
"Oh, mamma, it's so funny!" said Rob. "We can't help it."
Mrs. March did not think it funny at all. She began to be in despair about the night.
The very next section to the one with the five children was one of Mr. March's, and luckily those were the next curtains Ben opened.