s to
London, Iowy; she comes East every three or four year; passes two days
an' two nights, I believe 't is, on the cars; makes nothin' of it. I
ain't been no great of a traveler. Creation's real queer, _ain't_ it!"

Betty's fellow-traveler was looking earnestly at the green fields, and
seemed to express everything she felt of wonder and interest by her last
remark, to which Betty answered "yes," with a great shake of
laughter--and hoped that there would be still more to say.

"Have you been to sea a good deal?" she asked.

"Lor' yes, dear. Father owned two thirds o' the ship I was born on, and
bought into another when she got old, an' I was married off o' her; the
Sea Queen, Dexter, master, _she_ was. Then I sailed 'long o' my husband
till the child'n begun to come an' I found there was some advantages in
bringin' up a family on shore, so I settled down for a spell; but just
as I got round to leavin' and goin' back, my husband got tired o' the
sea and shippin' all run down, so home he come, and you wouldn't know us
now from shorefolks. Pretty good sailor, be ye?" (looking at Betty
sharply).

"Yes, I love the sea," said Betty.

"I want to know," said her new friend admiringly, and then took a long
breath and got out of her gloves.

"Your father a shipmaster?" she continued.

"No," said Betty humbly.

"What trade does he follow?"

"He has written some books; he is a naturalist; but papa can do almost
anything," replied Betty proudly.

"I want to know," said the traveler again. "Well, I don't realize just
what naturalists hold to; there's too many sects a-goin' nowadays for
me. I was brought up good old-fashioned Methodist, but this very mornin'
in the depot I was speakin' with a stranger that said she was a
Calvin-Advent, and they was increasin' fast. She did 'pear as well as
anybody; a nice appearin' woman. Well, there's room for all."

Betty was forced to smile, and tried to hide her face by looking out of
the window. Just then the conductor kindly appeared, and so she pulled
her face straight again.

"Ain't got no brothers an' sisters?" asked the funny old soul.

"No," said Betty. "Papa and I are all alone."

"Mother ain't livin'?" and the kind homely face turned quickly toward
her.

"She died when I was a baby."

"My sakes, how you talk! You don't feel to miss her, but she would have
set everything by you." (There was something truly affectionate in the
way this was said.) "All my child'n are mar