"'What's the matter up there?' he called.
"I tried to make my voice sound meek. 'My type-writer got away,' I said.
"'Well, why don't you haul it up?' he asked.
"'I can't,—I'm under it,' I said.
"'Huh?' he asked.
"'The blanket's holding me down,' I said.
"'Are you hurt?' called his wife, and I heard her scrambling out.
"I said 'no,' as her head appeared above the edge of the berth. 'I just can't move, that's all.'
"So the two of them hoisted the machine until I could crawl out from under the blanket; and then, among us, we managed to get it back up again, the man sputtering all the time. He seemed to think that his wife's education, along the line of hoisting type-writers, had been neglected. When we had gotten it up, I hauled it over to the back of the berth and sat and leaned against it for the rest of the night. I wasn't taking any more chances. It makes as good a chair-back as it does a type-writer case, anyway!
"I dressed early, and when we got to Washington I tipped the porter to carry the case to the platform, and then got a station porter to take
