he boys so
well, and though you have not actually seen the Snowy, you really know
her very well. Darling thing! Oh, I cannot wait till we get there! Do
you think we ever _shall_ get there, Margaret? This is the longest
journey I ever made in my life."

"How about the journey from Ohio?"

"Oh, that is different. I know all the places along the road, and they
slip by before one can think. Besides, a long journey always seems
shorter, because you know it is long. Well, you needn't laugh, you know
perfectly well what I mean. Oh, Margaret, I saw a glimpse of blue behind
the trees. Do you suppose that is the lake? do you think we are nearly
there? Oh! I am so excited! Is my hat on straight?"

Margaret Montfort, by way of reply, straightened her cousin's hat, and
then proceeded to administer sundry coaxing pats to her hair and her
ribbons.

"You are a trifle flyaway, dear!" she said. "There! now, when you have
taken the black smut off your nose, you will be as trim as possible. Am
I all right?"

"You!" said Peggy, with a despairing look, as she rubbed away at her
nose; "as if you ever had a pin or an eyelash out of place! Margaret,
how _do_ you do it? Why does dust avoid you, and cling to me as if I
were its last refuge? How do you make your collar stay like that? I
don't see why I was born a Misfit Puzzle. Oh--ee! there _is_ the lake!
just look, how blue it is! Oh! Margaret, I _must_ scream!"

"You must _not_ scream!" said Margaret with quiet decision, pulling
Peggy down into the seat beside her. "You must be good, and sit still.
See! that old gentleman is watching us, Peggy. He will be scandalized
if you carry on so."

"He doesn't look a bit scandalized; he looks awfully jolly."

"Peggy!"

"Well, he does, Margaret. Do you suppose Mr. Merryweather is anything
like that? _Margaret!_"

"What is it, Peggy? _please_ don't speak so loud!"

"Perhaps it _is_ Mr. Merryweather. I think--I am almost perfectly sure
it must be. Why, he is positively staring at us. It _must_ be Mr.
Merryweather!"

"Is Mr. Merryweather specially addicted to staring? I should not suppose
so. This gentleman is not in the least my idea of Mr. Merryweather; and
if he does stare,--there! he is looking away now,--it is because he sees
a great big girl dancing and jumping in her seat as if she were Polly
Peppercorn."

"Next station Merryweather!" chanted the brakeman.

"There! Margaret, he is getting his things together. It is! it _is_, I
tell