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 her empty room, “I never knew you to go back on your word before!  And you said you’d come to Sand Court as soon as you could!”

He looked in the veranda hammock, and in the library, and any place where he thought Midget might be, absorbed in a book; he inquired of the servants; and at last he went back to his mother.

“I can’t find Mopsy,” he said.

“Then she must be over at Cousin Ethel’s.  She does love to go over there.”

“Well, she oughtn’t to go when she’s promised to come out with us.  I never knew old Midge to break a promise before.”