to laugh off everything still flickered about the corners of her lips.

"Yes," she said, "I was in the sleeper, and the two people right in
front of me were killed; and it took almost three hours, I think,
before they got any of us out. And while I was lying there in the
darkness and mess and everything, I cried--and cried--and cried. It
wasn't nice of me, I know, nor brave, nor anything, but I couldn't
seem to help it--underneath all that pile of broken seats and racks
and beams and things.

"And pretty soon a man's voice--just a voice, no face or anything, you
know, but just a voice from somewhere quite near me, spoke right out
and said: 'What in creation are you crying so about? Are you awfully
hurt?' And I said--though I didn't mean to say it at all, but it came
right out--'N-o, I don't think I'm hurt, but I don't like having all
these seats and windows piled on top of me,' and I began crying all
over again. 'But no one else is crying,' reproached the Voice.--'And
there's a perfectly good reason why not,' I said. 'They're all
dead!'--'O--h,' said the Voice, and then I began to cry harder than
ever, and principally this time, I think, I cried because the horrid,
old red plush cushions smelt so stale and dusty, jammed against my
nose.

"And then after a long time the Voice spoke again and it said, 'If
I'll sing you a little song, will you stop crying?' And I said, 'N-o,
I don't think I could!' And after a long time the Voice spoke again,
and it said, 'Well, if I'll tell you a story will you stop crying?'
And I considered it a long time, and finally I said, 'Well, if you'll
tell me a perfectly true story--a story that's never, never been told
to any one before--_I'll try and stop!_'