SPONGE-CAKE.
"Those crackers aren't very nice, that's a fact," said he, looking
penitently at the overflowing paper bag, which stood upright on the
seat between them.
"Not half as bad as the cheese," returned Flaxie.
"Well, I don't blame you for not liking mouldy cheese; I don't like
it myself," admitted Preston. "But I suppose, now, Chicky, if you had
a piece of pie or a cake or a sandwich, you'd enjoy it, and feel more
comfortable, wouldn't you?"
The gentle tone and manner touched his little sister, and called back
her happiest smiles in a moment.
"Oh, I don't care the least bit about anything! I'm not very hungry,
Preston; really I'm not."
"Yes, but I don't want you to be hungry at all," said the benevolent
brother. "I want people that travel with me to feel all right and have
a good time." Here he took out his purse and looked at the silver
in it; there seemed to be plenty. "I wish a boy would come in with
something besides pop-corn and peanuts, and all that sort of nonsense,
don't you? I'll tell you what I'll do," added he, returning the purse
to his pocket. "I'll get out at Bremen and buy you a great square of
sponge-cake."
"Oh, but Preston, you can't buy it there!"
"What's the reason I can't?"
"Because they don't keep it at Bremen. Sharon is the place; _Sharon_,
near Hilltop."
"Where did you get your information?" returned the lad, rather
ruffled. "As often as I've travelled this road I think I ought to know
that Bremen is a famous place for sponge-cake. There's an old woman
living there that bakes it by the ton."
"Why, Preston Gray, that old woman lives at _Sharon_! I've seen her
my own self. Don't you suppose I know? Why, Uncle Ben has bought
sponge-cake of her ever so many times and brought it home to Aunt
Charlotte."
One of Preston's dazzling smiles shone through his spectacles as he
rejoined,--
"Oh, I dare say he has bought sponge-cake and carried it home to Aunt
Charlotte; but that's no sign he has bought it at Sharon. You're
mistaken, that's all. Now when you get to Bremen, and you see people
stepping out of this car and coming back loaded with sponge-cake,
perhaps you'll give up that I'm right."
Flaxie was ready to retort what she did not believe people _would_ get
out at Bremen, or if they did they would not find any cake. She was
fond of having the last word, but remembering her blunder with the
cracker, she said no more, and even thought meekly,--
"Oh, well, perhaps it _is_ Bremen! I almost hope so, for I don't want
to wait till we get to Sharon."
She had regained her spirits by this time, and found it very pleasant
to be travelling with a kind brother like Preston, who had not a fault
in the world except looking down upon her rather too much.
In a few minutes the train halted at Bremen, a small way-station. It
did not look at all familiar to Preston. He had supposed Bremen was
much larger, but that was probably because he had not been on this road
for a whole year, and had forgotten some of the stopping-places. The
famous old cake-woman; could it be that she lived here? He had half a
mind to ask the conductor; but no; Flaxie would hear him.
"Oh, are you getting out?" said she.
To be sure he was. He was already hurrying down the aisle, too proud to
confess that he could possibly have made a mistake.
He was just behind a woman with a baby in her arms, and had to wait for
both the baby and the woman to be helped out. By the time he had got
out himself, and before he had a moment to look around him, the cars
were moving on again!
It was the most astonishing thing! There he stood at the door of a
wretched little wood-shed, close by the platform, swinging, his arms
and crying, "Stop! stop!" But nobody heard except the baby and its
mother, and nobody answered except the baby with an "Argoo, argoo,"
out of its silly little throat. So this was Bremen! This wood-shed and
two or three houses!
It was a sad predicament for Preston, but a worse one for Flaxie.
She, too, cried, "Stop! stop!" bounding up and down on the seat like
an India-rubber ball. But the cars paid as little heed to her as they
had paid to her brother. On they went, rattle, rattle, rattle. What
cared they for a passenger overboard? What cared they for a passenger's
sister left frantic and forlorn?
She would have appealed to the conductor, but he was in the next car.
So was the brakeman, so was even the pop-corn boy.
The people went on talking and reading without minding her. They
probably thought her a very restless child, for they had not seen her
quiet that morning. So it was not till she began to wring her hands
and sob aloud that they suspected anything unusual had happened.
"What is the matter, little girl?" asked an old lady, leaning forward
and offering her a paper of sassafras lozenges. Flaxie waved it away.
"Was it your brother that just left the car?" asked a kind old
gentleman, suddenly recollecting the handsome lad in spectacles. "Did
he get out on purpose?"
"Yes, sir, oh, yes, sir! on purpose to get me some cake! But he's lost
over! Oh, dear, he's lost over! I can't make 'em stop."
"How far were you going, my child?"
"I don't _know_ how far. I'm going to Hilltop to see Milly Allen. I
don't _know_ how far! Oh, dear, I didn't want any cake. I told him I
wasn't _very_ hungry. I told him the old woman lived at _Sharon_. He
didn't believe what I said, and that's why he got left! Oh, dear, if
he hadn't got out!"
"It isn't safe to get out unless you know where you are going,"
said the old lady wisely; but the remark did not seem to be of any
particular use just now. And then she put the sassafras lozenges back
in her satchel. _They_ didn't seem to be of any particular use, either.
"Oh, dear!" wailed Flaxie, "if I'd only travelled alone! I wanted to
travel alone!"
The old gentleman did not quite understand. It seemed to him that she
certainly _was_ travelling alone, and if that was what she wanted she
ought to be satisfied.
He folded his newspaper, put it in his hat, and came to sit down
beside her. He was a better comforter than the old lady, for he had
a dozen dear grandchildren at home, while she, poor soul, had only a
tortoise-shell cat.
"I wouldn't shed another least drop of a tear," said the good old
gentleman, hitting and upsetting the crackers, which tumbled out of the
bag upon the floor. "Not one tear would I shed," said he, picking up
the crackers. "Your brother will come on to Hilltop to-morrow, or maybe
he can come this very afternoon; and then won't you both laugh about
this? You'll ask him, 'Where's that cake?' And what do you suppose
he'll answer to that?"
"Oh, I don't want the cake; _that_ isn't what I want. My head aches and
my throat aches, and I've just had the chicken-pox; and--and--oh, dear,
I wish I was at home!"
"Where is your home, my little girl?"
"My home is at Laurel Grove, near Rosewood."
"And what is your name and your father's name?"
"He is Dr. Gray, and I am Mary Frances Gray."
"Ah, indeed! Why, I know your father very well," said the cheery old
gentleman. "Will you shake hands? There, now, we're good friends,
aren't we? And I'm going to Hilltop and beyond. I'm Dr. White,--tell
your papa,--_old_ Dr. White. Let's see, have you any ticket?"
Flaxie uttered a cry of despair. Till that moment she had not realized
the full extent of her woes.
"Oh, Preston took my ticket, and my money, and _all_ my things! Oh,
_should_ you have thought he would?"
"Ah, well; we'll see what we can do," said Dr. White.
"Oh, when I get to Hilltop I can't open my valise, for where's my
check? I mean my key! Oh, if I'd travelled alone! Preston wanted to
take care of me; but he's taken care of me _too much_!"
Dr. White found it hard to keep his face properly sober; yet he knew
his little friend would consider a smile very ill-timed.
"I've been to Hilltop more than ever he has, for Milly Allen is just
my age; and I could have gone alone _beau_tifully. He has bothered me
so. But he didn't mean to bother me," added she, ashamed to complain of
him before a stranger. "Only--" Here she sprang up suddenly, and those
miserable crackers rolled out again, followed by the cheese,--"only I
ought to have a ticket, you know. Do conductors ever let you travel
without your ticket?" asked she, raising her brimming eyes anxiously to
her new friend's face.
"It depends upon circumstances, Miss Mary. This conductor will do it,
I'll be bound."
"Will he? Oh, I'm so glad!" said Flaxie, greatly relieved, though
rather surprised. Why should this conductor let _her_ go free? He had
never seen her before, and knew nothing about her except that she
carried crackers in her pocket. He appeared presently, smiling and
holding out his hand; but after Dr. White had said something to him in
a low tone, he patted Flaxie's head with an "All right. Don't lose your
luncheon, my dear," and passed on to the next seat.
"Did you tell him how my brother got lost over? Did you tell him
everything?" asked Flaxie, looking quite gay and excited.
"Yes, almost everything. And now your troubles are over, Miss Mary,
for he will give your name to the new conductor, and then when we get
to Hilltop I can put you in a hack that will take you right to your
uncle's door."
"Oh, no, sir, I don't want any hack! Uncle Ben will be there, waiting
for me, with a sleigh, and Cousin Freddy, too. They always come to the
depot with a sleigh, except in the summer, and then they come with a
carryall or a wagon."
And, in truth, on arriving at Hilltop, the first persons to be seen
were Uncle Ben Allen, his son Freddy, and, best of all, his daughter
Milly, Flaxie's darling "twin cousin."
"But where's Preston?" asked Freddy.
"He stopped at a wood shed on the way, to buy a piece of sponge-cake,"
replied Dr. White, shaking hands with Uncle Ben, as Freddy tucked
Flaxie into the sleigh.