The stateroom proved to be No. 16, very well located and spacious for a stateroom. But to Joe it seemed very small for two persons. He was an inexperienced traveler and did not understand that life on board ship is widely different from life on shore. His companion had been to Europe and was used to steamer life.
“I think, Joe,” said he, “that I shall put you in the top berth. The lower berth is considered more desirable, but I claim it on the score of age and infirmity.”
“You don’t look very old, or infirm,” said Joe.
“I am twenty-three. And you?”
“Fifteen—nearly sixteen.”
“I have a stateroom trunk, which will just slip in under my berth. Where is your luggage?”
Joe looked embarrassed.
“I don’t know but you will feel ashamed of me,” he said; “but the only extra clothes I have are tied up in this handkerchief.”
Charles Folsom whistled.
“Well,” said he, “you are poorly provided. What have you got inside?”