At this, all three of the women laughed, and one said: "H'm! there ain't much question of intrudin' in these sleepin'-cars. It's just a kind o' big bedroom, that's all." Mrs. March smiled, and said: "Yes, I think so;" and the women went on talking. They were relating their experiences in the night. One of them said:-- "Well, I got along very well till somebody opened a window, and then I thought I should ha' froze to death; but my husband he called the conductor up, and they shut all the ventilators up; but I just shivered all night. Real good soap this is: ain't it?" Mrs. March looked warningly at Nelly, who was just about to speak. "Keep quiet, Nell," she said. But Nelly whispered: "Do you suppose that was our window, mamma?" "I dare say," answered Mrs. March, in a still lower whisper: "keep still, Nell." "Well, I wa'n't too cold," said the woman at the washbowl. She had her false teeth in her hand, and was washing them under the little slow stream running from the faucet: so she could not speak very distinctly. "Well, I wa'n't too cold," she said, "but I'll tell you what did happen to me. In the middle o' the night I felt somethin' against my head, right on the very top on't; and what do you think it was? 'Twas the feet of the man in the next section to our'n. 'Well,' says I, 'this is more'n I can stand;' and I gave 'em a real shove. I reckon he waked up, for I didn't feel 'em no more." At this Nelly had to run away. She could not keep the laugh back any longer. And Mrs. March thought it better to let her go, for she did not know what might be coming next in the conversation of these women. At the other end of the car, Nelly saw Rob, carrying something done up in newspaper in his hand. She ran after him. He put his finger on his lips as she drew near him, and made signs to her not to speak. She could not imagine what he was carrying. He went very fast to the outside door of the car, opened it, and threw the parcel out. "What was it, Rob?" said Nell, eagerly. "I won't tell you," said Rob: "you'll tell." "Oh! I won't; I won't; indeed I won't," said Nell. "Honest Indian?" said Rob. "Honest Indian," said Nelly. This was the strongest form of pledge which Rob and Nelly ever gave. It was like a sort of oath among the children in Mayfield. If a child broke his promise after he had said "Honest Indian," there was nothing too bad for him. "Well," said Rob, coming very close to Nelly, and speaking in a low whisper, "it was those people's string of onions!" "Why, Rob!" cried Nelly, in a horrified tone, "why, Rob! that's stealing. How could you?" "'Tain't stealing either, Nell March," said Rob, stoutly; "I haven't got 'em. Stealing is taking things. I haven't got them. I didn't want the old, horrid things. I just threw them away. That ain't taking."