more good times:
they didn't mean to try."

Mrs. Clifford, too, left many warm friends, and it is safe to say, that
on the morning the family started for the east, there were a great many
people "crying their hearts out of their eyes." Still, I believe no one
sorrowed more sincerely than faithful Barbara Kinckle.

CHAPTER III.

TAKING A JOURNEY.

It was a great effort for Mrs. Clifford to take a journey to Maine with
three children; but she needed the bracing air of New England, and so
did Grace and the baby.

To be sure they had the company of a gentleman who was going to Boston;
but he was a very young man indeed, who thought a great deal more of his
new mustache than he did of trunks, and checks, and tickets.

Twenty times a day Mrs. Clifford wished her husband could have gone with
her before he enlisted, for she hardly knew what to do with restless
little Horace. As for sitting still, it was more than the boy could do.
He would keep jerking his inquisitive little head out of the window, for
he never remembered a caution five minutes. He delighted to run up and
down the narrow aisle, and, putting his hands on the arms of the seats,
swing backward and forward with all his might. He became acquainted with
every lozenge-boy and every newspaper-boy on the route, and seemed to be
in a high state of merriment from morning till night.

Grace, who was always proper and well-behaved, was not a little
mortified by Horace's rough manners.

"He means no harm," Mrs. Clifford would say, with a smile and a sigh;
"but, Mr. Lazelle, if you will be so kind as to watch him a little, I
will be greatly obliged."

Mr. Lazelle would reply, "O, certainly, madam; be quite easy about the
child; he is not out of my sight for a moment!"

So saying, perhaps he would go in search of him, and find him under a
seat playing with Pincher, his clothes covered with dust, and his cap
lying between somebody's feet.

At such times Mr. Lazelle always said,--"Upon my word, you're a pretty
little fellow!" and looked as if he would like to shake him, if it were
not for soiling his gloves.

Horace laughed when Mr. Lazelle called him "a pretty little fellow," and
thought it a fine joke. He laughed, too, when the young man told him to
"come out," for there was something in the pettish tone of his voice
which Horace considered very amusing.

"I'll wait till he gets through scolding, and goes to coaxing," thought
the boy: "he's a smart man