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“Poor little kid! Make her berth up with double blankets, Bob, and keep an eye on it through the night. My! Think of a baby like this making a three-thousand-mile journey alone. My own little ones—Pshaw! What made me remember them just now?”
Then Josephine felt a scratchy mustache upon her check, and a hard thing which might have been a brass button jam itself into her temple. Next she was put down into the softest little bed in the world, the wheels went to singing “Chug-chug-chug,” in the drowsiest sort of lullaby, and that was all she knew for a long time.
But something roused her, suddenly, and she stretched out her hand to clasp, yet failed to find, her own familiar bed-fellow. Missing this she sat up in her berth and shrieked aloud:
“Rudanthy! Ru-dan-thy! RUDANTHY!”
CHAPTER II.
A HUMAN EXPRESS PARCEL.
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“Hush, sissy! Don’t make such a noise. You’re disturbing a whole car full of people,” said somebody near her.
Josephine suppressed her cries, but could not stifle the mighty sob which shook her. She looked up into the face of the black porter, Bob, studied it attentively, found it not unkind, and regained her self-possession.