"Those crackers aren't very nice, that's a fact," said he, looking penitently at the overflowing paper bag, which stood upright on the seat between them.

"Not half as bad as the cheese," returned Flaxie.

"Well, I don't blame you for not liking mouldy cheese; I don't like it myself," admitted Preston. "But I suppose, now, Chicky, if you had a piece of pie or a cake or a sandwich, you'd enjoy it, and feel more comfortable, wouldn't you?"

The gentle tone and manner touched his little sister, and called back her happiest smiles in a moment.

"Oh, I don't care the least bit about anything! I'm not very hungry, Preston; really I'm not."

"Yes, but I don't want you to be hungry at all," said the benevolent brother. "I want people that travel with me to feel all right and have a good time." Here he took out his purse and looked at the silver in it; there seemed to be plenty. "I wish a boy would come in with something besides pop-corn and peanuts, and all that sort of nonsense, don't you? I'll tell you what I'll do," added he, returning the purse to his pocket. "I'll get out at Bremen and buy you a great square of sponge-cake."

"Oh, but Preston, you can't buy it there!"

"What's the reason I can't?"

"Because they don't keep it at Bremen. Sharon is the place; Sharon, near Hilltop."

"Where did you get your information?" returned the lad, rather ruffled. "As often as I've travelled this road I think I ought to know that Bremen is a famous place for sponge-cake. There's an old woman living there that bakes it by the ton."

"Why, Preston Gray, that old woman lives at Sharon! I've seen her my own self. Don't you suppose I know? Why, Uncle Ben has bought sponge-cake of her ever so many times and brought it home to Aunt Charlotte."

One of Preston's dazzling smiles shone through his spectacles as he rejoined,—

"Oh, I dare say he has bought sponge-cake and carried it home to Aunt Charlotte; but that's no sign he has bought it at Sharon. You're mistaken, that's all. Now when you get to Bremen, and you see people stepping out of this car and coming back loaded with sponge-cake, perhaps you'll give up that I'm right."

Flaxie was ready to retort what she did not believe people would get out at Bremen, or if they did they would not find any cake. She was fond of having the last word, but remembering her blunder with the cracker, she said no more, and even thought meekly,—

"Oh, well, perhaps it is Bremen! I almost hope so, for I don't want to wait till we get to Sharon."

She had regained her spirits by this time, and found it very pleasant to be travelling with a kind brother like Preston, who had not a fault in the world except looking down upon her rather too much.

In a few minutes the train halted at Bremen, a small way-station. It did not look at all familiar to Preston. He had supposed Bremen was much larger, but that was probably because he had not been on this road for a whole year, and had forgotten some of the stopping-places. The famous old cake-woman; could it be that she lived here? He had half a mind to ask the conductor; but no; Flaxie would hear him.

"Oh, are you getting out?" said she.

To be sure he was. He was already hurrying down the aisle, too proud to confess that he could possibly have made a mistake.

He was just behind a woman with a baby in her arms, and had to wait for both the baby and the woman to be helped out. By the time he had got out himself, and before he had a moment to look around him, the cars were moving on again!

It was the most astonishing thing! There he stood at the door of a wretched little wood-shed, close by the platform, swinging, his arms and crying, "Stop! stop!" But nobody heard except the baby and its mother, and nobody answered except the baby with an "Argoo, argoo," out of its silly little throat. So this was Bremen! This wood-shed and two or three houses!

It was a sad predicament for Preston, but a worse one for Flaxie. She, too, cried, "Stop! stop!" bounding up and down on the seat like an India-rubber ball. But the cars paid as little heed to her as they had paid to her brother. On they went, rattle, rattle, rattle. What cared they for a passenger overboard? What cared they for a passenger's sister left frantic and forlorn?

She would have appealed to the conductor, but he was in the next car. So was the brakeman, so was even the pop-corn boy.

The people went on talking and reading without minding her. They probably thought her a very restless child, for they had not seen her quiet that morning. So it was not till she began to wring her hands and sob aloud that they suspected anything unusual had happened.

"What is the matter, little girl?" asked an old lady, leaning forward and offering her a paper of sassafras lozenges. Flaxie waved it away.

"Was it your brother that just left the car?" asked a kind old gentleman, suddenly recollecting the handsome lad in spectacles. "Did he get out on purpose?"

"Yes, sir, oh, yes, sir! on purpose to get me some cake! But he's lost over! Oh, dear, he's lost over! I can't make 'em stop."

"How far were you going, my child?"

"I don't know how far. I'm going to Hilltop to see Milly Allen. I don't know how far! Oh, dear, I didn't want any cake. I told him I wasn't very hungry. I told him the old woman lived at Sharon. He didn't believe what I said, and that's why he got left! Oh, dear, if he hadn't got out!"

"It isn't safe to get out unless you know where you are going," said the old lady wisely; but the remark did not seem to be of any particular use just now. And then she put the sassafras lozenges back in her satchel. They didn't seem to be of any particular use, either.

"Oh, dear!" wailed Flaxie, "if I'd only travelled alone! I wanted to travel alone!"

The old gentleman did not quite understand. It seemed to him that she certainly was travelling alone, and if that was what she wanted she ought to be satisfied.

He folded his newspaper, put it in his hat, and came to sit down beside her. He was a better comforter than the old lady, for he had a dozen dear grandchildren at home, while she, poor soul, had only a tortoise-shell cat.

"I wouldn't shed another least drop of a tear," said the good old gentleman, hitting and upsetting the crackers, which tumbled out of the bag upon the floor. "Not one tear would I shed," said he, picking up the crackers. "Your brother will come on to Hilltop to-morrow, or maybe he can come this very afternoon; and then won't you both laugh about this? You'll ask him, 'Where's that cake?' And what do you suppose he'll answer to that?"

"Oh, I don't want the cake; that isn't what I want. My head aches and my throat aches, and I've just had the chicken-pox; and—and—oh, dear, I wish I was at home!"

"Where is your home, my little girl?"

"My home is at Laurel Grove, near Rosewood."

"And what is your name and your father's name?"

"He is Dr. Gray, and I am Mary Frances Gray."

"Ah, indeed! Why, I know your father very well," said the cheery old gentleman. "Will you shake hands? There, now, we're good friends, aren't we? And I'm going to Hilltop and beyond. I'm Dr. White,—tell your papa,—old Dr. White. Let's see, have you any ticket?"

Flaxie uttered a cry of despair. Till that moment she had not realized the full extent of her woes.

"Oh, Preston took my ticket, and my money, and all my things! Oh, should you have thought he would?"

"Ah, well; we'll see what we can do," said Dr. White.

"Oh, when I get to Hilltop I can't open my valise, for where's my check? I mean my key! Oh, if I'd travelled alone! Preston wanted to take care of me; but he's taken care of me too much!"

Dr. White found it hard to keep his face properly sober; yet he knew his little friend would consider a smile very ill-timed.

"I've been to Hilltop more than ever he has, for Milly Allen is just my age; and I could have gone alone beautifully. He has bothered me so. But he didn't mean to bother me," added she, ashamed to complain of him before a stranger. "Only—" Here she sprang up suddenly, and those miserable crackers rolled out again, followed by the cheese,—"only I ought to have a ticket, you know. Do conductors ever let you travel without your ticket?" asked she, raising her brimming eyes anxiously to her new friend's face.

"It depends upon circumstances, Miss Mary. This conductor will do it, I'll be bound."

"Will he? Oh, I'm so glad!" said Flaxie, greatly relieved, though rather surprised. Why should this conductor let her go free? He had never seen her before, and knew nothing about her except that she carried crackers in her pocket. He appeared presently, smiling and holding out his hand; but after Dr. White had said something to him in a low tone, he patted Flaxie's head with an "All right. Don't lose your luncheon, my dear," and passed on to the next seat.

"Did you tell him how my brother got lost over? Did you tell him everything?" asked Flaxie, looking quite gay and excited.

"Yes, almost everything. And now your troubles are over, Miss Mary, for he will give your name to the new conductor, and then when we get to Hilltop I can put you in a hack that will take you right to your uncle's door."

"Oh, no, sir, I don't want any hack! Uncle Ben will be there, waiting for me, with a sleigh, and Cousin Freddy, too. They always come to the depot with a sleigh, except in the summer, and then they come with a carryall or a wagon."

And, in truth, on arriving at Hilltop, the first persons to be seen were Uncle Ben Allen, his son Freddy, and, best of all, his daughter Milly, Flaxie's darling "twin cousin."

"But where's Preston?" asked Freddy.

"He stopped at a wood shed on the way, to buy a piece of sponge-cake," replied Dr. White, shaking hands with Uncle Ben, as Freddy tucked Flaxie into the sleigh.