"To hang your trousers on, sah," was the enlightening answer."There's hooks for the rest of your clothes just outside the berths.""This looks pretty good to me," said Phil, peering out through the screened window of his berth.
"Reminds me of when I used to go to sleep in the woodbox behind the stove where I lived last year in Edmeston," grumbled Teddy in a muffled voice, as he rummaged about his berth trying to accustom himself to it.Teddy never had ridden in a sleeping car, so it was all new and strange to him.
"Say, who sleeps upstairs?" he called to the porter.
"The performers, sah--some of them.This heah is the performers' car, sah.""How do they get up there?On a rope ladder?" Phil shouted.
"You ninny, this isn't a circus performance.No; of course they don't climb up on a rope ladder as if they were starting a trapeze act.""How, then?"
"The porter brings out a little step ladder, and it's just like walking upstairs, only it isn't.""Huh!" grunted Teddy."Do they have a net under them all night?" "A net?What for?""Case they fall out of bed."
"Put him out!" shouted several performers who were engaged in settling themselves in their own quarters."He's too new for this outfit."Phil drew his companion aside and read him a lecture on not asking so many questions, advising Teddy to keep his ears and eyes open instead.
Teddy grumbled and returned to the work of unpacking his bag.
Inquiry for their trunks developed the fact that they would have to look for these in the baggage car; that no trunks were allowed in the sleepers.
Everything about the car was new and fresh, the linen white and clean, while the wash room, with its mahogany trimmings, plate glass mirrors and upholstered seats, was quite the most elaborate thing that Teddy had ever seen.