The convict buttoned his coat and turned up his collar.
"Good-night, sir," he said, "and thank you."
Mr. Holiday waved the thanks aside and pointed to a door of shining mahogany.
"There's a bed for you, too," he said gently.
Then--it may have been owing to the sudden starting of the train--he lurched against the door, and with a sound that was mighty like a sob thrust it open and slammed it shut behind him.
Mr. Holiday smiled and went back to his own bed. This time he slept soundly.
At seven o'clock the porter called him, according to orders. The train was standing still.
"Merry Christmas, Mistah Holiday, sah!" grinned the porter. "Seven o'clock, sah!"
"Merry Christmas," said Mr. Holiday. "Why are we stopping?"
"Snowed in!" exclaimed Mr. Holiday. "Where?"
"'Tween Albany and Buffalo, sah. Dey ain't any name to de place. Dey ain't any place."
"There are three children," said Mr. Holiday, "in the stateroom next to this and a gentleman in the other stateroom. You call 'em in about an hour and ask 'em what they'll take for breakfast. Bring me some coffee, and ask the conductor how late we're going to be."
With his coffee Mr. Holiday learned that the train might be twenty-four hours late in getting to Cleveland. The conductor supposed that ploughs were at work along the track; but the blizzard was still raging.
That he would be separated from his wife on Christmas Day for the first time in their married life did not amuse Mr. Holiday; and although too much of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren bored him to extinction, still he felt that any festive day on which they were not all with him was a festive day gone very wrong indeed. But it was not as a sop to his own feelings of disappointment that he decided to celebrate Christmas in the train. It was a mixture of good-nature and, I am afraid, of malice. He said to himself:
"I shall invite all the passengers to one-o'clock dinner and a Christmas tree afterward with games and punch. I shall invite the conductor and the brakeman; the porters shall come to serve dinner. I shall invite the engineer and the fireman and the express-man. I shall invite everybody except Jolyff."
The old gentleman sucked in his lips tightly and dwelt upon this thought with satisfaction. Jolyff loved a party; Jolyff loved to drink healths, and clap people on the back, and make little speeches, and exert himself generally to amuse less gifted persons and make them feel at home. And it was pleasant to think of him as sitting alone while a fine celebration was banging and roaring in the very next car--a celebration to which even an ex-convict had been invited.