the expostulations of the conductor himself, who had a group of
complainants about him, and the thunderous snoring of a fat man in the
nearest seat, who slept with his feet cocked up on another seat and a
handkerchief over his face.

"Goodness!" gasped Bess, pulling back. "Let's not go in. It's a
bear garden."

"Why, I don't understand it," murmured Nan. "Women and children in the
smoker? Whoever heard the like?"

"They've turned off the heat in the other two cars and made us all come
in here, lady," explained a little dark-haired and dark-eyed woman who
sat in a seat near the door. "They tell us there is not much coal, and
they cannot heat so many cars."

She spoke without complaint, in the tone of resignation so common among
the peasantry of Europe, but heard in North America from but two
people--the French Canadian and the peon of Mexico. Nan had seen so many
of the former people in the Big Woods of Upper Michigan the summer
before, that she was sure this poor woman was a "Canuck." Upon her lap
lay a delicate, whimpering, little boy of about two years.

"What is the matter with the poor little fellow, madam?" asked Nan,
compassionately.

"With my little Pierre, mademoiselle?" returned the woman.

"Yes," said Nan.