302 THE BED MOUNTAIN OF ALASKA. 
look out through the frosty pane, " sitting over across the 
aisle day after day, with her kid gloves and all that. 
Nice enough, of course," recalling one or two spirited con- 
versations where hours had slipped by like minutes, " but 
confoundedly useless, like the rest of 'em. If she were like 
mother, now, there' d be no trouble. She'd take care of 
herself. But, as it is, the whole car will be turned upside 
down for her to-day, for fear she'll freeze, or starve, or 
spoil her complexion, or something." 
Here Bob turned an extremely cold shoulder on the 
window, and, having performed a sort of horizontal toilet, 
emerged from his berth, his hair on end, and his face 
expressive of utter defiance to the world in general, and 
contempt of fashionable young ladies in particular. 
At that moment, Miss Raymond appeared in the aisle, 
sweet and rosy as a June morning, her cheeks glowing, 
and her eyes sparkling with fun. 
" Good-morning, Mr. Estabrook," she said, demurely, 
settling the fur collar about her neck. 
Bob endeavored to look dignified, and was conscious of 
failure. 
" Good-mo-morning," he replied, with some stifeess, 
and a shiver which took him by surprise. It was cold, 
jumping out of that warm berth. 
I understand we must stay — but don't let me detain 
you," she added, with a sly glance at his hair. 
Bob turned and marched off solemnly to the masculine 
end of the car, washed in ice-water, completed his toilet, 
