The hot box so delayed the train that Jacksonville was not reached
until the middle of the night.

Bob took a sleeping child in his arms, and carried her out to the bus.

"Good-bye, little missy," he murmured, before handing her to her father.

Her arms tightened around his neck while her eyes opened for a second.

"Don't leave me, Bob. I love you."

Then she did not remember anything more until she wakened in a strange
room the next morning.

At first, she could not think where she was. Then it came to her that
she was in a hotel in Jacksonville. She sprang out of bed, and ran to
a window. The room faced a park, and afforded Beth her first glimpse
of tropical beauty. Strange trees glistened in the glorious sunshine.
From pictures she had seen, Beth recognized the palms, and the orange
trees. Below, on the piazza, the band was playing "Dixie." Delighted
as Beth was, she did not linger long by the window, but dressed as fast
as she could.

Mr. Davenport entered the room.

"Do you know what time it is? It's fully eleven, and I was up at six
this morning."

"At six, papa? What have you been doing?"