wn a narrow covered way, which Elsie,
supposed led to the hospital. She had no idea what sort of a place it
was, and everything here was bewilderingly new and strange to her. Meg
had told her that there was a great bare room, where people waited their
turn. Into such a room they seemed to have passed. There were several
people running about, the friends, Elsie supposed, of those who were
ill. "They are just going to shut the doors. Look how every one is
running!" Mrs. Donaldson hurriedly exclaimed. "We shall be too late.
Come, Effie."

She took Elsie's hand, and ran hastily across the great room. In a
moment, before Elsie knew what was being done, a gentleman had seized
her other hand, dragged her across a short space among a heap of people,
thrust her into a carriage just as a whistle sounded, the door was
banged to, and the train--for Elsie knew directly that she was in
one--began to move off. She flew to the door directly they released
their hold of her, but immediately two strong arms forced her back and a
soft gloved hand was held over her mouth.

"That was a near shave," the gentleman said when they had passed out of
the station.

"And would have been worse than useless if I had not engaged a carriage
to ourselves," Mrs. Donaldson replied, setting herself back comfortably.
"Now, my dear, you may scream or knock at the door as much as you like,"
she said smilingly; "not a soul will hear you. To-night you will be in
London!"

CHAPTER XV.--A MYSTERIOUS MATTER.

Elsie was beside herself with rage. She had not naturally a very even
temper, but never in her life had she felt in such a passion. Directly
her two companions loosed their hold upon her she jumped up, and struck
the door of the carriage, screaming loudly, "Let me out! let me out!"
She caught hold of the wooden framework, and shook it till it rattled
again, while Mrs. Donaldson, well knowing it was locked, sat calmly
smiling at her impotent wrath.

Then the child turned furiously upon her tormentors. Her passion knew no
bounds; she felt as if she could have torn that wicked "fairy mother"
to pieces. It was such a fit of passionate rage as blinds reason and
takes away the power of thinking--such a mad, ungovernable fury as would
have led an older stronger person to some desperate deed.

[Illustration: "SHE ... STRUCK THE DOOR OF THE CARRIAGE" (_p. 199_).]

Elsie caught hold of Mrs. Donaldson's arm, and screamed at her. "You
bad, wicked thing! let me