“Then,” said Mr. Maynard, with a businesslike air, “I must telephone or telegraph or go personally to every way station between Seacote and New York.  It’s a strange case.  I can only think my daughter became suddenly demented; I can think of no other reason for her conduct.  Can you, Jack?”

“No, Ed, I can’t.  And yet, Marjorie is a child who always does unexpected things.  Some crotchet or whimsey of her childish mind might account for this strange freak, quite naturally.”

“I can’t see how.  But we will do what we can.  Good-day, Mr. Fischer, and thank you for your help and interest.”

CHAPTER X

JESSICA BROWN

Meantime, where was Marjorie?

To go back to where we left her, in the railroad train, she had fallen asleep from utter exhaustion of nerve and body.

But her nap was of short duration.  She woke with a start, and found, to her surprise, that she was leaning her head against somebody’s shoulder.

She looked up, to see the red-faced man gravely regarding her, though he smiled as their eyes met.

“Feel better, little miss?” he said, and again Marjorie felt a strange repulsion, though he spoke kindly enough.

Her mind was bewildered, she was nervous and frightened, yet she had a positive conviction that she ought not to talk to this strange man.  She did not like his face, even if his voice was kind.

“Yes, thank you,” she said, in distantly polite tones, and again she squeezed herself over toward the window, and away from her seatmate.  She sat up very straight, trying to act as grown-up as possible, and then the train stopped at a large station.  There were crowds of people hurrying and scurrying about on the platform, and Marjorie was almost sure she had reached Jersey City, where she knew she must change for New York.

She wanted to inquire, but the conductor was not in sight, and she didn’t like to ask the man beside her.

So she rose, as if to leave the car.

The red-faced man rose also, and stepped back as she passed him.  In a moment she found herself on the platform, and the train soon went on.  Everything about the station looked unfamiliar, and glancing up, she saw by a large sign that she was at Newark!  She had never before been in Newark, though she knew in a general way where it was.  She went uncertainly into the station, and looked at the clock.  It was after five.  Marjorie knew she could take another train, and proceed to Jersey City, and so to New York, but her courage had failed her, and she couldn’t bear the thought of travelling any further.

And yet, how could she stay where she was?  Also, she began to feel very hungry.  The exhaustion caused by her emotional grief, and her wearisome journey, made her feel hollow and faint.

She sank down on a seat in the waiting-room, sadly conscious of her lonely and desolate situation.