possibly have,--and a
large paper of doughnuts. Feverish as I was, I would right willingly
have given her back, not only the doughnuts, but the tea, to bribe her
not to persecute me as she did for a message for Jim. But I could leave
my thanks for all his kindness, and my regrets--sincere, though repented
of--that I could not see him again, before I went, to say good-by; and,
already in part effaced by the impression of the last blow that had
fallen upon me, that scene in the dreadful meadow seemed months and
miles away. The engine shrieked. The cars started. My hopes and spirits
rose; and I was glad, because I was going home,--that is, where, when I
had a home, it used to be.

CHAPTER III.

The rapid motion gratified my restlessness, and, together with the
noise, soothed me homoeopathically. I slept a great deal. The
midsummer day was far shorter than I feared it would be; and I found
myself rather refreshed than fatigued when the conductor roused me
finally by shouting names more and more familiar, as we stopped at
way-stations. I sat upright, and strained my _cinderful_ eyes, long
surfeited with undiluted green, for the first far blue and silver
glimpses of my precious sea. Then well-known rocks and cedars came
hurrying forward, as if to meet me half-way.

As the cars stopped for the last time with me, I caught sight of a horse
and chaise approaching at a rapid rate down the main street of the town.
The driver sprang out and threw the reins to a boy. He turned his
face--a grave face--up, and looked searchingly along the row of
car-windows. It was Dr. Physick. I darted out at the nearest door. He
saw me, smiled, and was at it in an instant, catching both my hands in
his to shake them and help me down by them at the same time.

"Little Katy!"--he always would call me so, though, as I sometimes took
the liberty to tell him, I was very sure I had long left off being
_that_, even if I was not yet quite the size of some giants I had
seen,--"Little Katy! How jolly! 'Fanny?' O, Fanny's pretty
comfortable,--looking out for you and putting her head out of the
window, I dare say, the minute my back's turned. I look to you now to
keep her in order. Baggage? Only bag? Give it to me. Foot,--now
hand,--there you are!"

And there I was,--where I was most glad to be once more,--in his gig,
and driving, in the cool, moist twilight, down the dear old street,
shaded with dear old elms, with the golden and amber sunset still
glo