"I didn't say Adolphus did right to tease you," said Mr. Parlin, gently.

He thought the little girl's lesson had been quite severe enough; for,
after all, she had done nothing very wrong: she had only been a little
foolish.

"Upon my word, chincapin," said he, "we haven't opened that basket yet!
What do you say to a lunch, with the Boston Journal for a table-cloth?
And here comes a boy with some apples."

In two minutes Dotty had buried her chagrin in a sandwich.

And all the while the cars were racketing along towards Boston.




CHAPTER III.

A BABY IN A BLUE CLOAK.


Dotty had begun to smile again, and was talking pleasantly with
her father, when there was a sudden rocking of the cars, or, as Prudy
had called it, a "car-quake." Dotty would have been greatly alarmed if
she had not looked up in her father's face and seen that it was
perfectly tranquil. They had run over a cow.

This little accident gave a new turn to the child's thoughts. She gazed