No, Bethlehem was in the semi-tropics or thereabout, but the common car in which the three children were passing the night was not. This thought came to Mr. Holiday without invitation, and, like all unwelcome guests, made a long stay. So persistent, indeed, was the thought, meeting his mind at every turn and dogging its footsteps, that he forgot all about Jolyff and all about everything else. Finally he rang for the porter, but had no answer. He rang again and again. Then the train jolted slowly to a standstill, and Mr. Holiday got up and dressed, and went forward once more through the narrow aisles of thick curtains to the common car. But the passengers in that car had amalgamated. Alice and the convict, blue with cold, were in the same seat, and Alice was hugging Freddie, who slept fitfully, to her breast, and the convict was hugging Euphemia, who cried gently and softly like a cold and hungry kitten, to his. The convict had taken off his overcoat and wrapped it as well as he could about all the children. Mr. Holiday tapped the convict on the shoulder. "Merry Christmas!" he said cynically. The convict started and turned. "Bring these babies back to my car," said Mr. Holiday, "and help me put 'em to bed." "That's a good deed, Mr. Holiday," said the convict. He started to put on his overcoat. The undressing and putting to bed had not waked Freddie. Euphemia had stopped crying. And Alice, when the two men had helped her with her dress, which buttoned down the back, had suddenly flung her arms first around one and then around the other, and given each a kiss good night. The convict buttoned his coat and turned up his collar. "Good-night, sir," he said, "and thank you." Mr. Holiday waved the thanks aside and pointed to a door of shining mahogany. "There's a bed for you, too," he said gently. The convict hesitated. Then--it may have been owing to the sudden starting of the train--he lurched against the door, and with a sound that was mighty like a sob thrust it open and slammed it shut behind him. Mr. Holiday smiled and went back to his own bed. This time he slept soundly. At seven o'clock the porter called him, according to orders. The train was standing still. "Merry Christmas, Mistah Holiday, sah!" grinned the porter. "Seven o'clock, sah!" "Merry Christmas," said Mr. Holiday. "Why are we stopping?" "We's snowed in," grinned the porter. "Snowed in!" exclaimed Mr. Holiday. "Where?" "'Tween Albany and Buffalo, sah. Dey ain't any name to de place. Dey ain't any place." "There are three children," said Mr. Holiday, "in the stateroom next to this and a gentleman in the other stateroom. You call 'em in about an hour and ask 'em what they'll take for breakfast. Bring me some coffee, and ask the conductor how late we're going to be."