back and amuse him amazingly.

"Wonder where the old man is now. Ha, ha! Do you suppose he has found
out where Harrowtown is? Oh, but wasn't it rich to see how scared he was
when I awoke him? And how he jumped and scrambled out of the car! 'Pon
my word, I never saw anything so comical."

Here the stranger turned again and shot another quick glance, this time
from indignant eyes, and his lips parted as if about to utter a stern
reproof. But he did not speak.

We will now leave Albert and his fellow-travelers, and follow good
Gideon Randal.

It was quite dark when he stepped from the cars. "Can you tell me where
I can find Mr. Aaron Harrington?" he inquired of a man at the station.

"There's no such man living here, to my knowledge," was the reply.

"What, isn't this Harrowtown?" asked Mr. Randal, in great consternation.

"No, it is Whipple Village."

"Then I got out at the wrong station. What shall I do?" in a voice of
deep distress.

"Go right to the hotel and stay till the train goes in the morning,"
said the man, pleasantly.

There was no alternative. Mr. Randal passed a restless night at the