“And well we may,” replied her brother. “It’s the soul of business—and traveling, too, you’ll find. So pray have your carpet-bag ready in the morning—or —”
“Now don’t begin with scolding, Harry, because Mrs. Castleton happened to be five minutes out of the way.”
“Well, well,” replied Meredith, “that’s enough. Now go and choose your state-rooms. One of you will have to share one with a stranger.”
The girls looked at each other; Ruth and Grace wanting to be together, and yet not liking to propose it to Mary Randall, who said at once, with the almost of good nature,
“Oh, I’ll take that one. It’s the same thing to me, you know,” in a manner that quite warmed their hearts to her.
Mrs. Castleton had the first choice, of course, and so all the arrangements were made accordingly. But just when they were retiring for the night, Mrs. Castleton came to Ruth and Grace’s state-room, with a servant following her, bag in hand, saying in her usual sweet manner and soft tones,
“Girls, you’ll have to change with me. There’s such a walking overhead that I can’t sleep below.”
And so bonnets and shawls and bags were hastily gathered up, and all tumbled in confusion in the condemned state-room below.
“She might have thought of that before,” said Ruth with some little vexation. “It was her own choice.”
“Yes, I think so,” replied Grace. “She could sleep here I suppose as well as we.”