For the next few days there was much talk of clothes and packing, of trains and time-tables, and it was a matter of some discussion as to the best way for the little girls to make their journey of some hundreds of miles. Dorothy had never been so far away from home, and was therefore the more excited of the two. After some writing back and forth it was decided that the two children should go to the city under Mr. Conway's care and there he turned them over to Mr. Ramsey who was to join his family at the seashore in about a week.

"Do you suppose we shall get homesick?" asked Dorothy as the time drew near for them to make their start.

"Oh, I hope not," returned Edna fervently. "I was awfully homesick at Aunt Elizabeth's, but this will be quite different, for there will be Jennie, and Mrs. Ramsey is a real mother; besides we shall have one another."

"I know all that," returned Dorothy a little dubiously, "but Jennie's mother won't be mine nor yours."

Edna was willing to admit this, but she had gone through some rather trying experiences and was 25 not disposed to think that anything but pleasant times awaited them. As Jennie had pictured it the visit was to be one long season of delight, so Edna said determinedly. "Well, I don't intend to be homesick."

"Then I'll try not to be," returned Dorothy, not to be outdone in courage.

However, when the trunks stood ready packed, and Edna said good night for the last time before undertaking the journey, she held her mother very tightly around the neck and whispered: "I wish you were going too, Mother."

"That can't be, darling," said her mother. "You will have such a fine time that you will not miss your mother at all."

"Oh, but I shall," returned Edna, half wishing she were not going after all. "I 'most wish it was time to come back instead of time to go."

Her mother laughed. "And this is the little girl who could scarcely wait to be told she could go. Never mind, dearie, you will feel quite differently to-morrow morning. Now go to sleep, for you must get up bright and early, you know."

Edna settled down with a sigh, but, in spite of her excitement, she soon fell asleep to waken in the morning with the feeling that something very important was to happen. Her mother came in to see that she was properly dressed and to tie the bows on her hair. Then just as they were about 26 to sit down to breakfast, the expressman came for the trunk, and next Dorothy arrived all impatience.

"Why, Edna, haven't you had breakfast yet?" she asked. "Aren't you afraid we shall be late?"

"We don't have to go till papa does, and he hasn't half finished," replied Edna. So Dorothy had to possess her soul in patience for there was no gainsaying the fact that they could not go without Mr. Conway.

At last the good-byes were said, and Edna waved to her mother till she could no longer see the white figure on the porch. Agnes and Celia had gone on ahead to the station and the boys were there, too, to see them off. Soon the train came in sight; in another moment they had been helped aboard, and the next they were off. It was but a short ride to the city, and this part of the journey was not exciting, as it was one with which they were very familiar. But when they were ushered into Mr. Ramsey's private office, they felt that here began their untrod way.

They sat for some time, their feet dangling from their high chairs while Mr. Ramsey conferred with his clerks in the outer office. Their talk was carried on in whispers, though once in a while a stifled giggle told that they were in good spirits.

At last Mr. Ramsey appeared. "Well, young ladies," he said, "I am sorry I had to leave you so long, but when a man is about to take a holiday, he has so many things to see about that he doesn't 27 know which way to turn." He looked at his watch. "I think we have just about time enough to get that ten o'clock train." He pressed an electric button and a boy in a grey uniform came to the door. "Take these bags, Edward," said Mr. Ramsey, pointing to the satchels each little girl had placed carefully by her chair. The boy led the way to the elevator and down they went to the first floor of the big office building, then to the street where an automobile stood to whizz them off to the station. Mr. Ramsey directed the chauffeur to see about the trunks while he conducted the little girls to the waiting-room where he left them, returning in a moment to hurry them to the train, and the second part of their journey began.

"I never was in a parlor car before," whispered Dorothy to Edna as the porter turned their seat to a proper angle and adjusted their footstools.

"I was once," replied Edna.

Here Mr. Ramsey handed over some picture papers to them and a box of chocolates. "I am going into the smoking-car," he said. "Do you think you young ladies can get along a little while without me?"

"We'll try to," replied Edna politely.

"If you want a glass of water or anything, just call the porter," Mr. Ramsey told them and then he left them.

There were not so very many persons in the car to interest them and for a time the children gave 28 their attention to the newspapers and the box of chocolates, but after a while they wearied of these, and began to look at their fellow travellers. A very pretty young lady smiled at them from across the aisle, and an older woman back of her looked interested in their movements. After a while this latter person came over and took the place directly behind them where Mr. Ramsey had been sitting.

"Are you children all alone?" she began the conversation.

"No," replied Dorothy.

"Are you sisters?" was the next question.

"No, we are only friends," Edna answered this time.

"And is the gentleman who came with you your father?"

"No, he is just taking us to his house where we are going to make a visit."

"Is he any relation to you?" came next.

"No relation at all. He is the father of the friend we are going to visit." It was Dorothy's turn this time.

"And do your mothers approve of your going off this way without a member of your family?"

This question the children thought a very disagreeable one. They looked at one another before Dorothy made reply. "If it wasn't exactly right our parents wouldn't let us do it. They never let us do a thing that isn't exactly right."

29 "And nobody knows what is right so well as my mother," Edna chimed in.

"Mine, too," put in Dorothy.

"How far did you say you were going?" asked their questioner.

"We didn't say," answered Dorothy, "but we are going to New York." She gave a little frown to Edna, who understood that she was not to vouchsafe any further information. "I just wasn't going to tell her where we were really going from New York," Dorothy said to her friend afterward. "It wasn't any of her business."

"New York is a very wicked city," their acquaintance informed them. "You must be very careful not to be alone in the streets. I would advise you never to lose sight of your escort for a moment."

Both little girls felt rather glad that they were not to remain in such a dreadful place, but they made no reply and wished most heartily that Mr. Ramsey would return to his seat and rid them of this undesirable companion. Presently Edna had a bright idea. "Would you like to look at some of our papers?" she asked.

"What have you?" asked the lady putting up her lorgnette.

"We have Life and Puck and Judge and—"

"I'll take Life and Puck." She accepted the papers handed to her and settled back in the seat 30she had behind them. The two children looked at each other with relieved expressions. "Don't you wish Mr. Ramsey would come back?" whispered Edna.

"Yes, but where will he sit?" Dorothy whispered back. They both smothered a giggle at this, and looking up Edna caught sight of the pretty young lady looking at them with an amused expression. She made a little movement with her hand to beckon Edna over to her.

"Is that old turtle quizzing you?" she asked in a low tone. "She is a perfect bore. She tackled me first but I wouldn't talk to her. Are you wondering if she is going to take that seat and keep it?"

"We were wondering what Mr. Ramsey would do," returned Edna.

"I'll tell you what to do; you take her seat and see what will happen. It is just here in front of me."

Edna took possession and in a few moments the inquisitive lady looked up and saw her there. She at once hurried over, dropping the papers by the way. "Here here," she cried, "what are you doing in my seat? You must get right up. All my things are here, and I don't want anyone to meddle with them. Get right up."

Edna arose with alacrity while the pretty young lady leaned over and said: "I asked her to sit there while you occupied her friend's seat. I wanted to 31talk to her, too. It is a poor rule that doesn't work both ways, you know."

The inquisitive lady gave the speaker a withering look and sank to her place with an air of great dignity while Edna returned to her place by Dorothy. In a few minutes Mr. Ramsey returned and both children gave a sigh of relief, though both kept wondering what would have happened if he had found someone in his place, and what more would have happened if he had taken the place the lady now occupied. They soon forgot all this, however, for Mr. Ramsey began to talk to them about the place to which they were going and before they knew it they had reached New York. The pretty young lady gave them a nod and a smile as she passed out, but the inquisitive lady did not look their way at all though she still retained the copy of Life they had lent her.

A taxi-cab whirled them up-town to the hotel where they were to lunch. Mr. Ramsey sent them upstairs to a pretty room, in charge of a neat maid who tidied them up and then took them down to the dining-room where Mr. Ramsey was already seated waiting for them. They felt very grand to be in so fine a place lunching with a gentleman quite like grown-up young ladies, and both wished their sisters could see them.

Lunch over, Mr. Ramsey took them to a large reception room where he stationed them at a window so they could look out on the street. "I think you will be entertained here," he said. "I am 32obliged to meet a business appointment, but I will be back as soon as I can. In the meantime amuse yourselves as you like, but don't leave the hotel. Here is the key of your room. The elevator boy or one of the chambermaids will show you where it is, if you would rather go there. I am glad there are two of you, for you can't be lonesome with one another. Good-bye." He was off and the two little girls, feeling that they were very small frogs in an immense puddle, sat by the window looking out on the street. Although it was not so warm as it had been earlier in the week, still it was warm enough, and the passers-by looked hot and tired, and after a while the two little girls wearied at looking at the constant stream of people.

"Let's go upstairs," suggested Dorothy.

"All right. Let's," returned Edna.

But just as they were standing timidly looking up and down the corridor trying to determine in which direction to go to find the elevator, a man wearing many brass buttons on his coat, came up to them. "Are you the young ladies in Number 136?" he asked.

Dorothy looked at the key she was holding and on its wooden tag she read the number 136. "Yes, that is the number," she told the man.

"Then here's something that's come for you," he said holding out two packages. "I knocked at your door, but you wasn't there, and the chambermaid said you might be in here."

33 The children thanked him and looked at the packages which were quite distinctly marked with their names and the number of their room as well as with the name of the hotel. They inquired their way to the elevator and had soon closed the door of their room after them.

"I'd a great deal rather be in here to ourselves," said Edna, "so we can do just what we like. You open one package, Dorothy, and I will open the other. Do you suppose Mr. Ramsey sent them?"

"Of course, because no one else knows where we are. Isn't it funny, Edna, to think that even our mothers don't know where we are? Do hurry and open your package. Mine isn't tied, and I know what it is but I don't want to tell till you have yours ready."

"This is such a heavy string," said Edna fumbling at the knot. "If I had a knife I would cut it, but I think I know what this is; it is a book, I am sure." After much to-do they managed to unfasten the package to disclose a new book of fairy tales.

"How perfectly lovely!" cried Dorothy. And, "I have wanted to read those ever since I took a peep at them one day when we were at Helen Darby's."

"Now we'll look at the other package," said Dorothy, slowly unfolding the paper which enclosed this.

The second package was found to contain two paper-dolls and two puzzles. After the paper-dolls were duly admired they were laid aside. "For," 34said Dorothy, "we haven't any scissors, so we can't cut out their frocks."

"I think it was perfectly lovely of Mr. Ramsey to think of getting such nice things," said Edna warmly.

"I suppose he thought we might get lonely if he stayed so long away. What would you do, Edna, if something happened that he didn't ever come back?"

Edna considered for awhile before she answered: "I'd send a telegram to papa to come and get us."

"It would be better to telephone," returned Dorothy. "We could use the long-distance 'phone and tell them all about it."

"So we could. I didn't think of that. We could stay right here and not leave the hotel at all, because that woman said it wouldn't do for us to go alone in the streets of New York."

But such an emergency did not arise, though as the afternoon wore on, the little girls began to get somewhat anxious. They read several of the fairy tales; they worked over their puzzles; they watched from the windows, and finally decided to put on their hats and pack up such of their belongings as they had taken from their satchels so they might be all ready. The new book and other gifts were stowed away, too, and this was hardly done before there came a quick knock at the door, and it was opened to Mr. Ramsey himself.

35 "You're all ready?" he cried. "Good! Come right along as fast as you can."

A boy had already snatched up their hand-bags and was hurrying off with them. Mr. Ramsey rushed them along the hall and into the elevator, then they were hurried into a taxi-cab which stood waiting and off they went.

As soon as they had started, Mr. Ramsey looked at his watch. "It's a close shave, but I think we can make it," he said. Then he leaned over to speak to the driver. "Get us to the Fall River boat in time and you shall have an extra tip," he said.

So through the crowded streets, worming their way among lines of heavy teams, across car-tracks, and into queer-looking neighborhoods they were taken, arriving just in time to be taken on board the boat before she should move off.

It was all very exciting, but not unpleasant, for they felt quite safe with Mr. Ramsey. He smiled down at them as he led the way to the deck. "We did make it, didn't we?" he said. "If you children had not been all ready we should have been goners."

"Suppose we had been too late for the boat what would you have done?" asked Edna.

"We could have taken a night train, but it would not have been so pleasant this warm evening. Now you can sit here while I get the keys of our staterooms, then we will go on deck and see the harbor. Our staterooms open into one another, so 36you needn't be afraid, but you will have to draw lots for the upper berth."

This last matter was easily adjusted for Dorothy begged to be allowed to climb up while Edna thought she would prefer to be below. After all this was talked over and settled, they sat on deck till they had seen the Statue of Liberty, had passed under the Brooklyn bridges, and had gone beyond the boundaries of New York. Mr. Ramsey pointed out all the things of interest and at last said they would better have supper. This over, they returned to the deck till sleep overcame them and they were put in charge of the stewardess while Mr. Ramsey remained above to smoke a final cigar.

Edna was awakened the next morning by Dorothy's leaning over to tickle her ear with a slip of paper. "Do you know where you are?" she asked.

Edna sat up rubbing her eyes. "I didn't at first," she answered, "but I do now. Is it time to get up, Dorothy?"

"I don't know, but I should think so, for the boat isn't going. I think it has stopped for good, for there is a great noise of taking off things, and I hear people talking outside."

In a few minutes there came a knock from Mr. Ramsey's stateroom and his voice inquired: "Are you getting up, young ladies?"

"We are up," replied Edna, "but we aren't dressed yet."

37 "Come out when you are and we'll have some breakfast before we take the train," came the response.

"I should think we'd better hurry a little," Edna told Dorothy. "I'll do your ribbons and buttons if you will do mine." This mutual help hastened matters decidedly and they were very soon ready, deciding that they would be on the safe side in putting on their hats, but after all breakfast was rather a hurried meal, and next thing they knew they were on the train for Boston. Here they crossed the city to take another train which should bear them over the last stage of their journey.

"Jennie is sure to be there to meet us." Mr. Ramsey told them. "I shall let her know what famous travelers you are. I shouldn't want better. No stopping to prink at the last moment, no forgetting something when it is too late to go back for it. Always smiling and in good spirits. You are models, I tell you."

The girls felt very much flattered at such high compliments, and were glad they had given heed to the careful instructions they had received from their mothers.

When at last the train did stop at the station, sure enough there was Jennie the first one to greet them. She was so eager to welcome her friends that her father complained that she had no eyes for him. At this she gave him a hasty kiss, but at once turned back to Edna and Dorothy. "I am 38going to take you home myself in the pony cart," she said. "Papa can go in the motor-car."

"All alone?" queried her father in pretended dismay. "I like that."

"Oh, but you will have Mack," returned Jennie, "and it isn't far."

Mr. Ramsey laughed and the two delighted guests clambered into the little pony-cart, Jennie took her seat, touched up the pony very lightly with her be-ribboned whip and off they went full of pleased anticipations.