ar
for Andersonville, and asked the conductor to look out for me. (As
if I needed that--a young lady like me! I'm fourteen now. I had a
birthday last week.)

But I thought at the last that she just wouldn't let me go, she clung
to me so, and begged me to forgive her for all she'd brought upon me;
and said it was a cruel, cruel shame, when there were children, and
people ought to stop and think and remember, and be willing to stand
anything. And then, in the next breath, she'd beg me not to forget
her, and not to love Father better than I did her. (As if there was
any danger of that!) And to write to her every few minutes.

Then the conductor cried, "All aboard!" and the bell rang, and she
had to go and leave me. But the last I saw of her she was waving her
handkerchief, and smiling the kind of a smile that's worse than crying
right out loud. Mother's always like that. No matter how bad she
feels, at the last minute she comes up bright and smiling, and just as
brave as can be.

I had a wonderful trip to Andersonville. Everybody was very kind to
me, and there were lovely things to see out the window. The conductor
came in and spoke to me several times--not the way you would look
after a child, but the way a gentleman would tend to a lady. I liked
him very much.

There was a young gentleman in the seat in front, too, who was very
nice. He loaned me a magazine, and bought some candy for me; but I
didn't see much more of him, for the second time the conductor came in
he told me he'd found a nice seat back in the car on the shady side.
He noticed the sun came in where I sat, he said. (_I_ hadn't noticed
it specially.) But he picked up my bag and magazine--but I guess he
forgot the candy-box the nice young gentleman in front had just put
on my window-sill, for when I got into my new seat the candy wasn't
anywhere; and of course I didn't like to go back for it. But the
conductor was very nice and kind, and came in twice again to see if I
liked my new seat; and of course I said I did. It was very nice and
shady, and there was a lady and a baby in the next seat, and I played
with the baby quite a lot.

It was heaps of fun to be grown up and traveling alone like that! I
sat back in my seat and wondered and wondered what the next six months
were going to be like. And I wondered, too, if I'd forgotten how to be
"Mary."

"Dear me! How shall I ever remember not to run and skip and laugh loud
or sing, or ask questions, or do _