"Up in the baggage car with Snoozleums," she sniffled. "He's the only one that doesn't find fault with me."
Mallory was stung to action by this crisis: "Wait," he said. He leaned out and motioned down the alley. "Porter! Wait a moment, darling. Porter!"
The porter arrived with a half-folded blanket in his hands, and his usual, "Yassah!"
Beckoning him closer, Mallory mumbled in a low tone: "Is there an extra berth on this car?"
The porter's eyes seemed to rebuke his ears. "Does you want this upper made up?"
"No—of course not."
"Ex—excuse me, I thought——"
"Don't you dare to think!" Mallory thundered. "Isn't there another lower berth?"
The porter breathed hard, and gave this bridal couple up as a riddle that followed no known rules. He went to find the sleeping car conductor, and returned with the information that the diagram showed nobody assigned to number three.
"Then I'll take number three," said Mallory, poking money at the porter. And still the porter could not understand.