y.

But he could tell them no more. She had bought her ticket and taken the
train in a quiet, matter-of-fact way, as any passenger would do.

"Did she look as if she had been crying?" asked King, almost crying
himself.

"Why, yes, now you speak of it, her face _did_ look so. Her eyes was
red, and she looked sorter sad. But she didn't say nothin', 'cept to ask
for a ticket to New York."

"Return ticket?" put in Mr. Bryant.

"No, sir; a single ticket. Just one way."

The conductor couldn't be seen until afternoon, as his run was a long
one, and his home far away.

"I can't understand it," said King, as they walked homeward; "and I
can't believe it. If Midget went to New York alone, she had lost her
mind,--that's all."

But when they reached home, they found the Maynards quite hopeful. It
had occurred to them that, by some strange freak, Marjorie had decided
to visit Grandma Maynard, and had started off there alone.

"I'm trying to get them on the long-distance," Mr. Maynard announced,
quite cheerily, as they entered.

"Let me take it," said Cousin Jack. "If she _isn't_ there, we don't want
to alarm them, either."

"That's so!" said Mr. Maynard. "All right, Jack, take it. Bless you, old
fellow, for your help."

But when connection had been made, and Cousin Jack found himself in
communication with Grandma Maynard, he didn't know what to say. He
caught at the first pretext he could think of, and said:

"How do you do, Mrs. Maynard? You don't know me, but I'm Jack Bryant, a
guest at Ed Maynard's house in Seacote. Now, won't you tell me when
Marjorie's birthday comes?"

"Ah, I've heard of you, Mr. Bryant," said Grandma Maynard, pleasantly.
"I suppose you want to surprise the child with a present or a party.
Well, her birthday is next week,--the fifteenth of July."

"Oh, thank you. She is getting a big girl, isn't she? When,--when did
you see her last?"

Cousin Jack's voice faltered, but the unsuspecting lady, listening,
didn't notice it.

"About two months ago. They were here in May. I love Marjorie, and I
wish I could see her again, but there's little hope of it. She wrote to
me last week that they would be in Seacote all summer."

"Yes, that is their plan," said Cousin Jack.

He could say no more, and dropped the receiver without even a good-by.

But though Grandma Maynard might think him rude or uncourteous, she
could not feel frightened or alarmed for Marjorie's safety, because of
anything he had