Mrs. Peterkin was in despair.  Their return train was 3.30; how could 5 P.M. help them?

Mr. Peterkin, with instant decision, proposed they should try something else.  Why should not they take their luncheon-basket across some ferry?  This would give them practice.  The family hastily agreed to this.  What could be better?  They went to the baggage-office, but found their basket had gone in the 7.35 train!  They had arrived in time, and could have gone too.  “If we had only been checked!” exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin.  The baggage-master, showing a tender interest, suggested that there was a train for Plymouth at eight, which would take them within twelve miles of Gooseberry Beach, and they might find “a team” there to take them across.  Solomon John and the little boys were delighted with the suggestion.

“We could see Plymouth Rock,” said Agamemnon.

But hasty action would be necessary.  Mr. Peterkin quickly procured tickets for Plymouth, and no official objected to their taking the 8 A.M. train.  They were all safely in the train.  This had been a test expedition; and each of the party had taken something, to see what would be the proportion of things lost to those remembered.  Mr. Peterkin had two umbrellas, Agamemnon an atlas and spyglass, and the little boys were taking down two cats in a basket.  All were safe.

“I am glad we have decided upon Plymouth,” said Mr. Peterkin.  “Before seeing the pyramids of Egypt we certainly ought to know something of Plymouth Rock.  I should certainly be quite ashamed, when looking at their great obelisks, to confess that I had never seen our own Rock.”

The conductor was attracted by this interesting party.  When Mr. Peterkin told him of their mistake of the morning, and that they were bound for Gooseberry Beach, he advised them to stop at Kingston, a station nearer the beach.  They would have but four miles to drive, and a reduction could be effected on their tickets.  The family demurred.  Were they ready now to give up Plymouth?  They would lose time in going there.  Solomon John, too, suggested it would be better, chronologically, to visit Plymouth on their return from Egypt, after they had seen the earliest things.

This decided them to stop at Kingston.

But they found here no omnibus nor carriage to take them to Gooseberry.  The station-master was eager to assist them, and went far and near in search of some sort of wagon.  Hour after hour passed away, the little boys had shared their last peanut, and gloom was gathering over the family, when Solomon John came into the station to say there was a photographer’s cart on the other side of the road.  Would not this be a good chance to have their photographs taken for their friends before leaving for Egypt?  The idea reanimated the whole party, and they made their way to the cart, and into it, as the door was open.  There was, however, no photographer there.