ions.

For perhaps half an hour she kept the tears back bravely enough; but as
she rode on, and realized more and more deeply what it all meant, she
could control herself no longer, and burst into a paroxysm of weeping.

She was sitting next the window, and, as there were few passengers, no
one was in the seat with her.

But when she raised her head, exhausted by her outburst of tears, a
burly red-faced man sat beside her.

"Come, come, little one, what's it all about?" he said.

His tone was kind, but his personality was not pleasant, and Marjorie
felt no inclination to confide in him.

"Nothing, sir," she said, drawing as far away from him as possible.

"Now, now, little miss, you can't cry like that, and then say there's
nothing the matter."

Marjorie wanted to rebuke his intrusion, but she didn't know exactly
what to say, so she turned toward the window and resolutely kept looking
out.

The trees and fields flying by were not very comforting. Every mile took
her farther away from her dear ones, for they _were_ dear, whether
related to her or not.

She pressed her flushed cheeks against the cool window pane. She was too
exhausted to cry any more. She seemed to have only enough strength to
say, brokenly, "Oh, Mother, _Mother_!" and then from sheer weariness of
flesh she fell into a troubled sleep.

Meantime Marjorie was missed at home. The Sand Club grew tired of
waiting for her, and King went up to the house to investigate the delay.

He trudged, whistling, up the driveway, and seeing Mrs. Corey, he
whipped off his cap, and greeted her politely.

"Where's Midget, Mother?" he asked.

"I don't know, son; isn't she with you?"

"No'm, and I'm tired waiting for her."

"Is Hester there?" asked Mrs. Corey.

"Yes, Mrs. Corey, Hester's been with us an hour, and we're waiting for
Mopsy. She said she'd come as soon as she finished her practising."

"She stopped practising some time ago," said Mrs. Corey. "I haven't
heard the piano for half an hour or more."

"I'll bet she's tucked away somewhere, reading!" exclaimed King; "I'll
hunt her out!"

"Perhaps she's gone over to Cousin Ethel's," suggested Mrs. Maynard.

"I'll hunt her up," repeated King, and he went into the house.

"Marjorie Mops! I say! Come out of that!" he cried, banging at the
closed door of her bedroom.

Getting no reply, he opened the door and looked in, but she wasn't
there.

"You old scallywag Mops!" he cried, shaking his fist at