FullReads

No sooner said than done–little Daniel was quickly transferred to the arms of the fair-haired and very beautiful young lady, and Netty, alias Susy, marched on in triumph.

“That was well done; I call that young lady a brick,” whispered Netty to Ben, but Ben replied:

“Be quiet, and come along.”

They reached the great train and were huddled into their compartments, and then slowly but surely it got up steam and moved out of the station, and then, gathering speed, flew past the ugly houses, past the rows of hot and dingy streets, into the pure, fresh lovely country.

Netty caught her breath in her rapture, her eyes shone with pure happiness, but in the midst of all her rejoicings a sudden memory of little Dan came to distress her.

“I have brought his bottle with me,” she said, tapping her pocket, “and he’ll be hungry by now. I wish the lady would give him back.”

“You stay quiet,” said Ben, nudging her; “where’s the use of bothering?”

The train flew through the country faster and faster, the air blew more and more fresh against Netty’s cheeks. She began to sniff. Could that delicious smell be the smell of the sea, the great, rolling blue sea which she had never seen, but which she had so often dreamed about?

There was another little white-faced girl who sat near Netty, and Netty asked her if she thought they were getting near the sea. She had a sharp face and had been to the sea before, and she rather despised Netty for her ignorance. Poor Netty was about to sink back into her seat with a feeling of disappointment when a grave-looking lady who had the charge of the compartment said, in a quiet voice:

“We cannot reach the sea for a long time yet, little girl, but I see you are much pleased and very much interested in everything; would you like to come and sit near me?”

All too willingly Netty changed her seat, and presently she and the kind lady entered into a vigorous conversation. Netty confessed how anxious she was about the baby. She tapped the bottle in her pocket and described how she had made the necessary food with milk and water and a pinch of sugar.

“Dan will be fretting for his lunch by now,” she said; “I do wish I could get hold of him.”

“We shall be stopping at a big station in two or three minutes now,” said the lady, whose name was Mrs. Holmes, “and I will get out and find Miss Pryce, who, I think from your description, must be the lady who has charge of the little one. I will bring him back to you then. But what a very audacious little girl you are to think that a baby would be allowed to come to the Sunday treat.”

“I could not have come without him,” replied Netty.

“What is your name?” asked Mrs. Holmes.

Poor Netty was on the point of saying Netty Floss, but at that moment she caught Ben’s eye and his warning glance saved her from making a startling revelation.

“Susy Minchin,” she answered.

“Minchin! I know the Minchins well. How is your Mother? I have not seen her for some time.”

“Very well, indeed,” answered Netty, flushing brightly. Her heart beat with a sudden feeling of alarm. This was quite terrible news. The kind lady knew her supposed Mother, Mrs. Minchin. Netty had not the faintest idea what Mrs. Minchin was like; she did not know how many there were in family, but a dreadful memory now darted through her brain–the curate had said that he did not believe that the Minchins had a young baby.

Suppose this lady who knew Mrs. Minchin so well should remember that fact, then what should she do?

The train stopped, Mrs. Holmes got out, and presently returned with the baby.

“By the way,” she said, as she placed the child in Netty’s arms, “is this your little brother?”