orn. But instead of that, the
lady meant only to praise and compliment her; and thus, in this way and
that way, the bitter little thoughts kept growing and growing, as the
cars sped on, until long before the end of her journey came, poor Ally
felt that there never was a much more friendless girl than she was; and
when the cars steamed into the Boston station, she said to herself, "I
wonder if Uncle John is dreading the winter on my account, as Aunt Kate
is?" and with this thought she stepped out on the platform. But where
_was_ Uncle John? She expected to see him at once, coming forward to
lift her from the steps. Where _was_ he now? and Ally looked at the
faces before her with wondering scrutiny. She jumped down--for people
were pressing behind her--and moved on, scanning the face of every
gentleman she saw with anxious eyes. No one of them, however, was that
of Uncle John. What _was_ the matter? Didn't he know the train she was
to take? Of course he did, for Uncle Tom had told her that he had
telegraphed that he would meet her at the Boston station at five
o'clock. Of course he knew, so he must have forgotten her. Yes, that was
it,--he had forgotten all about her! Ally was not a specially timid
child; but as she stood in the big station-building, and realized that
there was not a soul she knew there to look out for her, a feeling of
dismay overtook her. If it were in the morning or at noonday, it
wouldn't have seemed so dreadful; but though the electric lights flashed
everything into brilliance, it was a November day, and half-past five
o'clock was after nightfall. What _should_ she do? There was no sign of
Uncle John, and the passengers who had arrived with her were fast
disappearing. Very soon the people in the station would begin to notice
her, to ask questions, and then perhaps some police-officer would take
her to the police-station, as a lost child. She'd heard that that was
what they always did. It was just as this thought came into her head
that she caught sight of one of those very big burly blue-coated
individuals. He had his hand on the collar of a boy about her own age,
and she heard him say to him in a big burly voice,--

"What yer hangin' 'round here for? Lost, eh? That's a likely story.
Come, off with yer, if yer don't want ter be locked up!"

Poor little Ally didn't stop to reason,--to think of the difference in
the outward appearance of herself and the boy,--to see that the
policeman knew the boy per