house, waving something tied in
white paper.

"Apple tart, Miss Betty!" he called imploringly. "Velly nice apple
tart--maybe the cook at that school no make good tarts."

Betty took the package and thanked him warmly and they drove on.

"People are so good to me," choked the girl. "I never knew I had so
many friends."

"Well, that's nothing to cry over," advised Bob philosophically. "You
ought to be glad. Do I get a crumb of the tart, Betsey?"

He spoke with a purpose and was rewarded by seeing Betty's own sunny
smile come out.

"You always do," she told him. "But wait till we get home. I want Ki to
have a piece, too."

Ki, it developed, when they reached the Watterby farm, had been busy with
farewell plans of his own.

"For you," he announced gravely to Bob, handing him an immense hunting
knife as he stepped out of the car.

"For you," he informed Betty with equal gravity, presenting her a little
silver nugget.

They both thanked him repeatedly, and he stalked off, carrying his piece
of the apple tart and apparently assured of their sincerity.

"Though what he expects me to do with a hunting knife is more than I can
guess," laughed Bob.

CHAPTER V

A REGULAR CROSS-PATCH

"Be sure you send me a postal from Washington. I never knew anybody from
there before," said Grandma Watterby earnestly.

"And don't get off the train unless you know how long it's going to
stop," advised Will Watterby.

"Do you think you ate enough breakfast?" his wife asked anxiously.

Bob and Betty were waiting for the Eastern Limited, and the Watterby
family, who had brought them to the station, were waiting, too. The
Limited stopped only on signal, and this was no every day occurrence.

"We'll be all right," said Bob earnestly. "You can look for a postal from
Chicago first, Grandma."

Then came the usual hurried good-byes, the kisses and handshakes and the
repeated promises to "write soon." Then Bob and Betty found themselves in
the sleeper, waving frantically to the little group on the platform as
the Limited slowly got under way.

"And that's the last of Flame City--for some time at least,"
observed Bob.

Betty, who had made excellent use of lessons learned in her few previous
long journeys, took off her hat and gloves and placed them in a paper bag
which Bob put in the rack for her.

"I did want a new hat so much," she sighed, looking rather
enviously at the woman across the aisle who wore a smart Fall hat