satisfied; she thought he was neglecting his duty.

"I s'pose," mused she, finishing the final crumb of her sandwich,—"I s'pose there are two kinds of conductors in cars, same as in thunder. One is a non, and the other isn't. I'm afraid this man is a non; if he is, he will conduct us all to pieces."

Still her fear was not very active; it did not prevent her having a good time. She saw that her father was comfortable, and this fact reassured her somewhat. If they were going to meet with a dreadful accident, wouldn't he be likely to know it?

She began to look about her for something diverting. At no great distance was a little baby in a blue cloak. Not a very attractive baby, but a great deal better than none.

"Papa, there's more room on the seat by that lady's bandbox. Mayn't I ask to take care of her baby?"

"Yes, dear, if she is willing."

Dotty danced down the aisle, thinking as she went,—

"My father lets me do every single thing. If we had mamma with us, sometimes she'd say, No."

The tired woman greeted Miss Dimple cordially. She was not only willing, but very well pleased to have the uneasy baby taken out of her arms. Dotty drew off her gloves, and laid the little one's head tenderly against her cheek. Baby looked wonderingly into the bright eyes bending above him, reached up a chubby hand, caught Dotty's hat, and twitched it towards the left ear.

"Sweetest cherub!" said the fond mother, as if the child had done a good deed, "Take off your hat, little girl. I'll hang it in the rack."

Dotty was glad to obey. But baby was just as well satisfied with his new friend's hair as he had been with the hat. It was capable of being pulled; and that is a quality which delights the heart of infancy. Dotty bore the pain heroically, till she bethought herself of appearances; for, being among so many people, she did not wish to look like a gypsy. She smoothed back her tangled locks as well as she could, and tried every art of fascination to attract the baby's attention to something else.

"You are a pretty little girl, and a nice little girl," said the gratified mother. "You have a wonderful faculty for 'tending babies. Now, do you think, darling, you could take care of him a few minutes alone, and let me try to get a nap? I am very tired, for I got up this morning before sunrise, and had baking to do."

"O, yes'm," replied Dotty, overflowing with good nature; "you can go to sleep just as well as not. Baby likes me—don't you, baby? And we'll play pat-a-cake all so nice!"

"It isn't every day I see such a handsome, obliging little dear," remarked the oily-tongued woman, as she folded up a green and yellow plaid shawl, and put it on the arm of the seat for a pillow. "I should like to know what your name is; and some time, perhaps, I can tell your mother how kind you were to my baby."

"My name is Alice Parlin," replied our enraptured heroine, "and I live in Portland. I'm going out West, where the Hoojers live. I—"

Dotty stopped herself just in time to avoid "putting on airs."

"H—m! I thought I had seen you before. Well, your mother is proud of you; I know she is," remarked the new acquaintance, settling herself for a nap.

Dotty looked at her as she lay curled in an ungraceful heap, with her eyes closed. It was a hard, disagreeable face. Dotty did not know why it was unpleasing. She only compared it with the child's usual standard, and thought, "She is not so handsome as my mamma," and went on making great eyes at the baby.

She was not aware that the person she was obliging was Mrs. Lovejoy, an old neighbor of the Parlins, who had once been very angry with Susy, saying sarcastic words to her, which even now Susy could not recall without a quiver of pain.

For some time Dotty danced the lumpish baby up and down, sustained in her tedious task by remembering the honeyed compliments its mother had given her.

"I should think they would be proud of me at home; but