“Then, we’ll have to get off at the next stop, I suppose, and take the other train,” said Gordon dismally. “There isn’t any other stop till somewhere in the middle of the night. I tell you this is a special, and we’re scheduled to go straight through. East Liberty’s the last stop.” “Then what shall we do?” asked Gordon inanely. “I’m sure I don’t know,” snapped the conductor. “I’ve enough to do without mending other people’s mistakes. Stay aboard, I suppose, unless you want to jump off and commit suicide.” “But I have a lady with me who isn’t at all well,” said Gordon, with dignity. “So much the worse for the lady,” replied the conductor inhumanly. “There’s one upper berth, I told you.” “An upper berth wouldn’t do for her,” said Gordon decidedly. “She isn’t well, I tell you.” “Suit yourself!” snapped the harassed official. “I reckon it’s better than nothing. You may not have it long. I’m likely to be asked for it the next half minute.” “Is that so? And is there absolutely nothing else?” “Young man, I can’t waste words on you. I haven’t time. Take it or let it alone. It’s all one to me. There’s some standing room left in the day-coach, perhaps.” “I’ll take it,” said Gordon meekly, wishing he could go back and undo the last half-hour. How in the world was he to go and tell Celia that he could provide her nothing better than an upper berth? She was sitting with her back to him, her face resting wearily on her hand against the window. Two men with largely checked suits, big seal rings, and diamond scarf-pins sat in the opposite seat. He knew it was most unpleasant for her. A nondescript woman with a very large hat and thick powder on her face shared Celia’s seat. He reflected that “specials” did not always bear a select company. “Is there nothing you can do?” he pleaded with the conductor, as he took the bit of pasteboard entitling him to the last vacant berth. “Don’t you suppose you could get some man to change and give her a lower berth? It’ll be very hard for her. She isn’t used to upper berths.” His eyes rested wistfully on the bowed head. Celia had taken off her plumed hat, and the fitful light of the car played with the gold of her hair. The conductor’s grim eye softened as he looked. “That the lady? I’ll see what I can do,” he said briefly, and stumped off to the next car. The miracle of her presence had worked its change upon him. Gordon went over to Celia and told her in a low tone that he hoped to have arrangements made for her soon, so that she could be comfortable. She must be fearfully tired with the excitement and fright and hurry. He added that he had made a great blunder in getting on this train, and now there was no chance to get off for several hours, perhaps, and probably no supper to be had.