As the delicious sugar melted on my
tongue, the sorrows melted in my soul,
and I was just about to make some in-
quiries about Aunt Ellen, whose per-
sonal qualities seemed to be growing
clearer and clearer in my mind, when
my conductor came striding down the
aisle.

"Where's my little girl?" he de-
manded heartily. "Ah, there she is,
just where I left her, in good company
and eating maple sugar, as I live."

"Well, she hain't bin there all the
time now, I ken tell ye that!" cried the
old woman with a face like a hen.

"Indeed, she ain't!" the other
women joined in. "She's a mischief-
makin' child, that's what she is!" said
the mother. The little girl was look-
ing over her grandmother's shoulder,
and she ran out a very red, serpent-
like tongue at me.

"She's a good girl, and almost as
fond of Aunt Ellen as I am," said the
large man, finding my pocket, and put-