"All right, grandpa," said Ralph, mechanically sitting up, though his
ideas were still mixed with his dreams.

"I am not your respected grandparent," said Mr. Quigg from the stove,
where he was lighting the fire, "but I'll dare say he would call you
just as early."

The lad laughed at himself as he sprang up and, after washing and
brushing, hastened to help Mr. Quigg with his morning tasks.

He happened to glance out and noticed that their car was on a siding
and that numerous other tracks contained many coaches and freight cars
of different kinds. A small engine was puffing up and down among them,
while on every side beyond were tall buildings and vacant lots.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Where you said you wanted to go--Columbia."

"Looks like a dirty place," commented Ralph, having had the raw edge of
his curiosity sufficiently dulled at Hendersonville to make him a
little critical already.

"Wait till we get out where you can see something. It's a fine town.
I made a hundred dollars in a week here once."

This sounded like a fortune to Ralph.

"You see, one of the home artists was sick and the other one on a whiz