- room and slipped behind the curtain. Josephine
knew a red kimono. It belonged to Mrs. Dutton, the minister's wife, and Mrs. Dutton often stayed at mamma's cottage. Could this be Mrs. Dutton?
The child was out of bed, across the narrow aisle, swaying with the motion of the car, pulling the curtains apart, and clutching wildly at a figure in the lower berth.
"Mrs. Dutton. Oh! Mrs. Dutton! Here's Josephine."
"Ugh! Ouch! Eh! What?"
"Oh! 'Xcuse me. I thought you were Mrs. Dutton."
"Well, I'm not. Go away. Draw that curtain again. Go back to your folks. Your mother should know better than to let you roam about the sleeper at night."
"My mother knows—everything!" said Josephine, loyally. "I'm dreadful sorry you're not Mrs. Dutton, 'cause she'd have tooken off my coat and things. My coat is new. My mamma wouldn't like me to sleep in it. But the buttons stick. I can't undo it."
