"This excitement and hurry and you not scarcely eating any supper is
apt to give you a bad headache. They'll come handy. And here's some
seasick tablets. Martin says they're the newest thing out. And oh,
Nanny, when you're seeing all those new places and people just take an
extra look for me, seeing as I'll never know the color of the ocean."

Uncle Tony was tending to Nanny's hand luggage and in his heart wishing
he could go along, even though he knew that one week spent away from
his beloved hardware store would be the death of him.

It was a neighborly crowd that waited for the 10:27. And as it waited
Jim Tumley started singing "Auld Lang Syne." He began very softly but
soon the melody swelled to a clear sweetness that hushed the laughing
chatter and stilled the shuffling feet of the Pullman passengers who
crowded the train vestibules or strolled in weary patience along the
station platform.

Then the 10:27 swung around the curve and the good-bys began.

"So long, dear folks! I shall write. Don't you dare cry, Grandma.
I'll be back next lilac time. Remember, oh, just remember, all you
Green Valley folks, that I'll be back when the lilacs bloom again!"

Nanny's voice, husky with laughter and tears, rippled back to the
cluster of old neighbors waving hats and handkerchiefs. They watched
her standing in the golden light of the car doorway until the train
vanished from their sight. Then they drifted away in twos and threes.

From the dimmest corner of the observation platform a man had witnessed
the departure of Nanny Ainslee. He had heard Jim's song, had caught