teens. She was a sallow-faced little creature who seemed to be all eyes. Her little figure was lost in the folds of a black cotton blouse, much too large for her, and on her head was a mourning bonnet of the type usually worn by widows, with white niching showing in a line next to her face and a heavy crepe veil hanging down behind.
"I hope you haven't caught cold, sir," she said as Philip pretended to sneeze. "Mrs. O'Shea told me sleeping cars were mighty good places to catch colds in and she put in some castor oil in case I should feel a cold coming on. There'll be plenty for you to have some, too, and I'd be delighted to give it to you."
"Thank you! I wouldn't deprive you for worlds," smiled Philip. "I don't believe it is a cold—just train smoke."
"Well, if you want some you must ask me for it. You see I have never had the pleasure of giving anybody a dose of castor oil, and I'd simply love to do it. It must be delightful to be the one to do the giving. When the Bible says it is more blessed to give than receive, maybe it means castor oil."
"Maybe!" assented Philip.
"I believe we are to keep house together for the journey. Mrs. O'Shea told me someone
