"Wouldn't you be cross," said the young man, "if you had to look forward to sitting up all night in a cold smoking compartment?" "Can't you get a berth?" "I had a drawing-room," said the young man, "but at the last minute I had to give it up to a lady." Mr. Holiday's eyes twinkled with benign interest. He had connected the gardenia in the young man's coat with the roses of the girl who was weeping. "I know," he said, "drawing-room, Car 5. She was crying, but I told her to brace up, and I guess she's stopped." The young man jumped to his feet. "Oh!" he said. Mr. Holiday chuckled. "I was right," he said. "I've been right seven times out of the ten for twenty-five years. I've kept a record." Upon an impulse the young man checked his headlong inclination to rush to the girl who was weeping. "If you are right as often as that," he said, "for God's sake tell me what to do." "Certainly," said Mr. Holiday, "and it won't cost you a cent. What's the matter?" "_She_" said the young man with an accent, for there was but the one, "came to the station to see me off. She gave me this." He touched the gardenia gently. "I gave her some roses. Just as the train started to pull out I dared her to come with me ... she came!" "Tut--tut!" said Mr. Holiday. "What are we to do?" cried the young man. "Go back and sit with her," said Mr. Holiday, "and leave the door wide open. I'm going through the train now to see who's on board; so don't worry. Leave it all to me." The last car forward before you came to the baggage-car and the express car was a common day coach. It was draughty. It had been used as a smoker in a period not so very remote. A dog must have passed an uncomfortable night in it. Near the rear door sat a man in a new derby hat and a new black coat. Further forward on the same side three children had stuffed themselves into one seat. The middle child, a well-grown girl of thirteen or fourteen, seemed by her superior height to shelter the little tots at her side. Only the blue imitation sailor caps of these appeared above the top of the seat; and the top of each cap, including that worn by the older girl, had a centrepiece of white about the size of a gentleman's visiting card. Mr. Holiday promised himself the pleasure of investigating these later. In the meanwhile his interest was excited by the ears of the man in the new derby. They were not large, but they had an appearance of sticking out further than was necessary; and Mr. Holiday was about to ask their owner the reason why, when he noticed for himself that it was because the owner's hair had been cut so very, very short. Indeed, he had little gray eighth-inch bristles instead of hair. Mr. Holiday wondered why. He seated himself behind the man, and leaned forward. The man stirred uneasily. "I should think you'd be afraid of catching cold in this draughty car with your hair cut so short," said Mr. Holiday. "I am," said the man tersely. "Why did you let them cut it so short then?"