as, exactly."

"Pooh! Well, if you go you must take me. If you don't, you won't find me
or the things when you get back."

This rather alarmed the miserly farmer, and he was half afraid she might
sell off all his belongings, and clear out.

"All right, you shall go," he said, at last. "But it's goin' to cost a
terrible sight o' money," he added, with a long sigh.

It was decided that they should start for New York on the following
Monday morning. Mrs. Balberry had relatives at Rochester, and they made
arrangements to stop over at that point for one night, for neither the
farmer or his spouse wished to take a berth in a sleeping car.

"It's money thrown away," said Abner, "an', besides, who kin sleep with
a car runnin' fifty miles an hour? If there was an accident a feller
would be killed before he woke up!"

Mrs. Balberry's son, Fred, grumbled greatly at having to run the farm
during their absence, and the mother had to promise the lad fifty cents
a day for the extra work.

"It's an outrage," declared Abner, when he heard of this. "He ain't
worth his keep!"

"He is my son, and you have no right to abuse him!" declared the new
wife, and then the farmer found it best to say no more. He was
discovering that his wife had a sharp tongue, and could use it on the
slightest provocation.

Not to go to the expense of buying meals on the train, they provided
themselves with a basket full of food, and set off bright and early at
the time appointed. The run to Rochester was without incident, and Mrs.
Balberry's relatives there treated them kindly. Then, on Tuesday, they
took another train for New York, and late in the afternoon found
themselves at the Grand Central Depot.

"It's a fearfully crowded place," was Abner Balberry's comment, as he
gazed around.

"Which way are we to go, Abner?" asked his wife, and now she clung to
him, for the bustle and noise frightened her.

"Let's git out on the street, where I kin have a look around," he
answered, and pulled her along through the crowd. A boy wanted to take
his carpet bag, but he shook the urchin off.

Fortunately, while at Rochester, the farmer had heard of a hotel which I
shall call the Callac House, located but a few blocks from the station.
A policeman directed the pair to this place, and here Abner Balberry
succeeded in getting a room for a dollar and a half a night.

"Steep, ain't it?" he remarked, when he and his wife had been taken to
the room, on the seventh