The next morning all was bustle and hurry, for the aunts were to start on their trip and Mr. Gordon must be off to Chicago.  Miss Hope insisted on being taken to the station an hour before their train was due, and when a puff of steam up the track announced the actual approach of the train the two old ladies trembled with nervousness and excitement.  Mr. Gordon guided them up the steps of the car, after a tearful farewell to Bob and Betty, and saw that they were settled in the right sections.  He spoke to the conductor on the way out, and tipped the porter and maid liberally to look after the travelers’ comfort.

CHAPTER IV

MORE GOOD-BYES

“They’ll feel better presently,” he remarked, rejoining Bob and Betty on the platform.  “I know the boarding house they’ve chosen is fine in every way and they’re going to have a delightful winter.”

The train started slowly, and the black silk gloves of the aunts waved dolorously from the window.  They were embarked on their adventure.

“Don’t look so solemn, Betty,” teased her uncle.  “If I’m not mistaken that’s the smoke from my train.  I don’t want any one to weep over my departure.”

“I could, but I won’t,” Betty assured him bravely.  “You won’t get sick or anything, will you, Uncle Dick?  And you’ll write to me every week?”

“Like a clock,” he promised her.  “There goes the agent with my bags—­this is the local, all right.  Good-bye, Bob.  Remember what I’ve asked of you.”

Mr. Gordon wrung Bob’s hand and smiled down into the blue eyes lifted so fervently to his.

“You’re my boy, too,” he said clearly.  “Don’t forget, lad, if you need me.”

Then he swept Betty into his arms.

“Be a good girl, Sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing her.

They watched him climb up the steps of the snorting, smoky local, saw his bags tossed into the baggage car, and then, with a shrill grinding of wheels, the training resumed its way.  As long as they could see, the tall figure in the gray suit stood on the platform and waved a white handkerchief to them.

“Oh, Bob, don’t let me cry,” begged Betty, in a sudden panic.  “Everybody’s watching us.  Let’s go somewhere, quick.”

“All right, we will,” promised Bob.  “We’ll take the car to Doctor Morrison.  Hop in, Betsey, and dry your eyes.  You’re going traveling yourself day after to-morrow.”

“I wasn’t really crying,” explained Betty as she settled herself in the shabby car that had belonged to her uncle; he had sold it to the town physician.  “But doesn’t it give you a lonesome feeling to be the one that’s left?  I hate to say good-bye, anyway.”

Bob’s experience with motors was rather limited, and what slight knowledge he possessed had been gained in a few lessons taken while riding with Mr. Gordon.  However, the boy was sure that he could drive the car the brief distance to the doctor’s house, and Betty shared his confidence.  From the Morrison house it was only a short walk to the Watterby farm, where they were to stay until they left for the East.