ith the
determination of being young-lady-like, and not crying for those left
behind in dear old Dalton.

"Oh, that's the most fun," declared Tavia. "All new people maybe, and
different conductors, besides a chance to try if our feet are
asleep--mine feel drowsy now," and she jumped into the aisle just to
straighten out and make people wonder if she had lost something.

"We will meet the others at the junction--Viola's folks, you know. And
that reminds me,--I never had a chance to tell you why she was called
Viola. Her grandfather was a great violinist and she was called after
his--"

"Fiddle! Good!" interrupted Tavia, the irrepressible. "Then I'll call
her 'Fiddle.' That's lots better than the vegetables."

"It's a comfort to have all our things go by express," Dorothy remarked
when "Next station Junction!" was called from the front door of the
car. "I feel as if I am constantly forgetting something, when I have
nothing to carry, but it is a relief to find our racks empty."

"My hat is up there," Tavia remarked, taking down the straw sailor.
"And our box of candy--you don't call that an empty rack, do you?
Alice's best mixed--all chocolate too."

"I was quite sure you wouldn't forget the candy," answered Dorothy.
"And it was awfully good of Alice."

"Junction! Junct-shon!" called the trainman.

"There's our porter," remarked Tavia; with conscious pride as the
colored man, whom the major had given the girls in charge of, stepped
up the aisle, secured the small satchels and, without so much as, "by
your leave," or, "are you ready," handed the two girls off the train.

CHAPTER XII

VIOLA'S MOTHER

At the change of cars the Dalton girls were met by Viola and Mrs.
Green. Viola and her mother soon arranged seats for four in the chair
car, and Dorothy, with Tavia, joined them in such comfortable quarters
as are provided for long distance passengers. Then the little party
settled down for a long ride--and all the enjoyment that might be
discovered therein. Viola appeared delighted to meet the Dalton
girls--she inquired particularly about Dorothy's cousin Nat, but this
society "stunt," as Tavia termed it, was due more to the city habit of
remembering friends' friends, than a weakness on Viola's part for good
looking boys.

But it was Viola's mother who interested both Dorothy and Tavia. She
was a small woman, evidently of foreign extraction (Spanish, Dorothy
thought) and with such a look of ado