dozen times over
just what she was to do, and that she was to leave the train only when
it stopped for the very last time to stay, without going on. The
terminus of the line was Lewisburg.

"And if you sit there a half an hour, you make sure," said Miss Eliza,
firmly.

A great many people, added she, especially young people, get lost by
leaving trains at wrong stations.

Miss Letitia contributed her quota also, though it was more in actual
preparation for contingencies that might arise than advice. Arethusa's
name and address had been sewed in everything she had on, "in case of
accident." Miss Letitia had had a dream one night of an unidentified
body lying by a railroad track after a wreck. She dreamed the body to
be Arethusa's. Then she had read, very often, of folks whose sense of
their own identity had been taken from them most completely by a blow
on the head; this also had happened in wrecks. Should there be a wreck
and the dream come true, or the other horrible thing happen, in either
case they would never know what became of Arethusa. The thought
harrowed Miss Letitia. Fortunately, she had only dreamed the dream the
one time, so there was not quite so much danger of it being fulfilled.
Had she dreamed it three nights, Arethusa should never have gone a step
on this trip. But even had the other dreadful thing occurred, it would
have been the most careless searcher who would have failed to discover
just who Arethusa was and where she belonged, after Miss Letitia had
finished her labeling, in slanting, old-fashioned letters on neatly
bound-down squares of white linen.

The traveller carried a small packet of baking-soda, tucked into a
corner of her satchel by the long-sighted Miss Letitia, "in case of
car-sickness." There was nothing so good for nausea as soda.

Arethusa wore the dark blue suit Miss Letitia had made her, with its
plain, full gathered skirt, all lined for better warmth, and its
double-breasted coat, trimmed with the buttons from one of her
great-grandfather's broadcloth suits. Her traveling waist was pongee.

"Pongee is the best material to travel in that I know of," said Miss
Eliza. "It never shows the least bit of soil."

It was buttoned modestly to her throat, ending in a straight line,
neither high nor low which would have been most trying to nearly
everyone, but above which Arethusa's flower face rose as lovely as
ever. Her hat was a plain round felt trimmed with two really beautiful
tur