It seemed as if cousin Lydia never would get ready to start.  Ever since the letter from our mammas, Fel and I had been sure we were wanted at home; but there was no end to the things cousin Lydia had to do, and so far as we could see, Miss Samantha and Miss Julia didn’t help her much.  We dared not say this, however; we laid it away in our minds, with twenty other things we meant to tell our mothers when we got home.

My great consolation while waiting was a Maltese kitten with white toes, and eyes the color of blue clay; and when, at last, the joyful time came for going to Willowbrook, I begged to take that kitty with us.  Miss Julia said, “Nonsense!” But cousin Lydia was really a sensible woman; for what did she do but butter Silvertoe’s paws, and tie her into an egg-basket.

“But you must take care of her yourself, Maggie; I shall have my hands full with you, and Ruphelle, and the baggage.”

Kitty behaved beautifully at first; but presently the rough mountain roads began to jar upon her nerves, I think; for by the time the stage reached the station, she was scratching and mewing at such a rate that I was ashamed of her.  I lagged behind, so cousin shouldn’t hear.

And was this the depot?  A jail, I should say.  Such a wicked man staring through the hole in the wall!  Wonder what he was put in for?

“The ticket-master, that is,” said cousin Lydia, smiling at me, though I hoped she couldn’t see what I had been thinking.

Then she bought the tickets; but she wouldn’t let Fel or me keep ours.  She said the kitty was all I could manage.  So I should think!

We heard a shriek like my Big Giant.  It frightened me dreadfully; I began to think there was such a man.  No wonder kitty jumped.  Next moment some yellow things came tearing along.  Then I knew it was the cars.

“Come,” said cousin Lydia, climbing the steps.

Well, I intended to come.  My foot was just a little stiff, but I was hurrying as fast as I could, when up sprang the cover of the basket, and out popped the kitty.  Of course, I wasn’t going without Silvertoes.  She scampered round the end of the depot, and I ran after her.  It was of no use; she dropped into a hole.  I couldn’t have been gone half a minute; but those yellow things took that time to whisk off.  I ran the whole length of the platform, calling, “Whoa!” but they never stopped.

The black-whiskered man had come out of his cell, and was locking the depot door.

“O, won’t you stop that railroad?  Please, for pity’s sake!”

The man made no reply; only shut one eye and whistled.  I danced and screamed.  There were those things puffing out of breath, and determined not to stop.

“’Tain’t no use to make a rumpus.  The cars won’t take back tracks for nobody.”

I thought he didn’t understand.

“Why, my cousin Lydia bought me a ticket, sir, right out of that hole.  Don’t you know she did?  And that railroad went off and left me.  I was getting in in a minute, as soon as I found my kitty!”

“O, that’s it, hey?  Well, you see this ere’s only a flag-station, and they don’t stop for cats.”

I began to cry.  The man patted me on the back, just as if I had a fish-bone in my throat, and called me “Poor sissy.”  It made me very angry ­seven whole years old ­to be called sissy!  I wiped my eyes at once, and told him decidedly that I thought my cousin would make the “driver” come back for me.

The man whistled harder.  This caused me to feel a little like a dog that has lost his master; and I felt so all the more when the man pointed his finger at me and told me to follow him, and he would try to get me “put up” for the night.  But not knowing anything better to do, I trudged after him with my empty basket, forgetting all about the kitten.

We crossed the road, and went through a long yard where clothes were drying, till we came to a little brown house.  Near the open door of the porch sat a woman beating eggs in a yellow pudding-dish.  She had a skin somewhat the color of leather, and wore a leather-colored dress, gold beads, a brass-topped comb, and gold ear-drops, like upside down exclamation points.  I thought she looked a little like a sheepskin book father had in a gilt binding.

“This little creeter got left by the train, Harr’et; I don’t see but we shall have to eat and sleep her.  What say?”

“Eat and sleep me!” I took a step backward.  Of course they did not mean what they said; but I thought joking on this occasion was in very poor taste.

“Got left over?  Poor little dear!”

The woman stopped her work to pity me, and drops of egg dripped from the fork-tines like yellow tears.  I fell to crying then.

“It seems she’s some related to Captain Tenney’s folks,” said the whistling man, ending with another love-pat, and “Poor Sissy!”

But even those insulting words could not stop my crying this time.

“Leave her to me, Peter,” said the woman.  “Most likely she’s afraid of men folks.”

The man went away, to my great relief, and she took my bonnet and cloak, and then made me tell her all about my trials, while she beat time with her fork.  My mouth once open, I talked steadily, giving the complete history of my life between my sobs, ­only leaving out my lie about the hatchet.

“Something cut my foot and I go a little lame, or I could have catched that kitty, ­she has white pors.  But does the railroad have any right to run off and leave folks that’s bought tickets?”

“Never mind, dear, you’re welcome to stay over with us.  Brother Peter and I never calculate to turn folks away while we have a crust to eat, or a roof to cover us.”

“O, dear, what poor people!” I ought not to stay.  But it seemed they were to have something to-night better than crusts.  Harr’et was frying pancakes, ­how could she afford it? ­and shaking them out of the kettle with a long-handled skimmer into a pan in a chair.  She brought me one, which she called her “try-cake;” but it didn’t look like Ruth’s, and I was too homesick to eat; so I managed to slip it into my pocket.

Harr’et wore heavy calfskin shoes, and shook the house fearfully when she walked.  I couldn’t help thinking of what she had said about the roof, and it seemed as if it might fall any minute and “cover us,” sure enough.

While I sat on the door-step watching her, all forlorn, she drew out a red armchair, gave it a little twitch, as you would to a sunshade, and lo! it turned into a table, with a round top.  Then she covered it with a cloth, from a drawer in the chair part of the table, and put on some green and white dishes.

When tea was ready, the whistling man seemed to know it, and came in.  It didn’t look very inviting to me.  The biscuits were specked with brown spots as if the oven had freckled them; and I didn’t like molasses for sauce.

I thought of home, and the nice supper cousin Lydia was eating there, and could almost see her sitting next to mother, with my purse in her pocket, and my ticket too.  And I could almost see Fel, and hear her queer grandpa asking her questions, while Miss Rubie looked on, all smiling, and dressed in her wedding-gown, of course.

They all thought I was lost, and they should never see me again.  Perhaps they never would.  How could I go home without a ticket?  Once there was a man put off the car because he couldn’t show a ticket.  Fel saw the “driver” do it.

That thought choked me, together with the sudden recollection that I hadn’t told Harr’et my purse was gone.  She and Peter might be expecting to make quite a little sum out of my board, enough to keep the roof on a while longer.

“Do eat, child,” said the man.

“I didn’t tell you, sir,” I sobbed, “that the railroad ran off with my purse, ­cousin Lydia, I mean, ­and I haven’t the leastest thing to pay you with!”

I drew out my handkerchief in a great hurry, and out flew the pancake.  Peter and Harriet looked at it and smiled, and I hid my face in shame.

“Never you worry your little head about money,” said Peter, kindly.  “I know young ladies about your size ain’t in the habit of travelling with their pockets full of rocks ­let alone doughnuts.”

O, what a kind man!  And how I had mistaken him!  I forgave him at once for calling me poor sissy.

“If you’ve done your supper, Peter, I motion you take her out and show her the sheep and lambs.”

Peter did so, besides beguiling me with pleasant talk; but pleasantest of all was the remark, ­

“Don’t be a bit concerned about your ticket; I’ll make that all right to-morrow.”

And this was the man I had been so afraid of, only because he was rough-looking, and liked to make jokes.

He told me his name was Peter Noble, and Harr’et was his sister, and kept house for him; and I actually told him in confidence that I meant to go to Italy when I grew to be a lady; for we became close friends in a few minutes, and I felt that he could be trusted.

It was almost dark when we went back to the kitchen; but there was Harriet, laughing.

“Whose kitty?” said she.

And it was Silvertoes, lapping milk out of a saucer by the stove.  She was very hungry, and I suppose came to that house because it was so near the depot.  I felt as happy as Robinson Crusoe when he found Friday.  My trials were now nearly over.

I remember little more, except Peter’s taking me into a car next day in his arms, and Harriet’s giving me my kitty through the window.  I hope I thanked them, but am not sure.  That was the last I saw of them; but I carried the marks of Harriet’s “try-cake” while my frock lasted, for soap took out the color.

The “driver” treated me with marked politeness, and when we reached Willowbrook Corner, put me into the yellow stage, with as much care as if I had been a china tea-set.

There was a shout when I got home, for all the family were at the gate.