once more to think that it must
be right for her to go.

There were not many minutes in which to think about it, for when Sue had
bought their tickets, the whistle of a locomotive was heard coming
around a bend of the road, and almost before Nancy knew it they were
seated in the car, and spinning over the rails towards the little town
where her aunt was now living.

It was all like a dream. She saw the tall trees, the broad fields now
brown, yet bare of snow, because the warm sun had melted it, the church
spires of other villages standing out clearly against the blue sky, but
they blurred and became indistinct, because she could not keep back the
tears. She was not really crying, but as fast as the tears were forced
back, others would come, and she turned from the window to hear what Sue
was saying. "I say it's only three stations more, an' then we'll be
there, an' when ye see how much good it'll do yer aunt, ye'll be glad ye
come," she said.

Nancy's eyes brightened. If it was to do so much good, then she had done
right. It must be that she really ought to be on her way towards the
little house, and Sue had promised to return with her.

And now the train, which had been flying along, slackened its speed, and
a frowzy-haired brakeman thrust his head into the car doorway, shouting
something, Nancy could not tell what.

"Here we are," said Sue, as she rose to her feet.

Nancy slipped from the seat, and together they left the car and stepped
out upon the platform. "I didn't ask ye ef ye wanted ter bring
anything with yer?" said Sue. "Ye could hev packed a little bag with
anything ye'd want while ye was here."

"Why, what should I want to bring in a bag?" Nancy asked in surprise.

"I didn't know but you'd want a apron, a night-gown, or something," Sue
replied.

Nancy stood still in the middle of the road, and stared at Sue.

"A _night-dress_! Why, aren't you coming back with me to-night?"

"Why, Nancy, don't stop there. I thought I told ye that yer aunt wanted
yer ter visit her."

"You said she wanted to look at me, and that she had something to give
me, and something to tell me, but that wouldn't take long, and I ought
to go home to-night."

"But there's no train home ter-night, Nancy. This is a little town, an'
there's only two er three trains a day. Ye _must_ hev told in yer letter
that ye was goin' ter _visit_ yer aunt, didn't yer?"

"I don't know whether I _said_ visit or not, but truly I didn't think