The kind woman called a good-bye to the children and went away; so Flossie
and Freddie were left by themselves in the elevated railroad station at
One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street.

For a while they sat quietly, watching the people come in to buy tickets
or get off trains. The agent did not pay much attention to them, being
very busy, for it was toward the close of day when the rush was like the
morning, greater than at other times.

"Say! What's that?" suddenly asked Flossie, holding up her chubby hand to
tell Freddie to stop whistling, which he was trying to do.

"What's what?" he asked, looking at his sister.

"I hear music," went on Flossie.

"So do I!" exclaimed Freddie.

They both listened, and from somewhere outside they heard the sound again.

"It's a hand organ!" cried Flossie.

"No, it's a hand _piano!_" said Freddie. "Hear how jiggily the tune is."

"Well, it's the same thing," Flossie insisted, "I wonder if there's a
monkey with it."

"Let's go downstairs and see," proposed Freddie.

Once Flossie or Freddie made up their minds to do a thing it was almost as