almost there."

A gay little laugh answered her question.

"How COULD I go to sleep on the way to see Rose?" she asked, "and how
near are we now?"

"The next station, but one," said the maid, "and I'll begin to gather up
the bag, and suit case."

"The next but one!" cried Polly, and she sat up very straight, and
looked from the window. Was the town where Rose lived as pretty as this?

There were great trees that cast long shadows, and here, and there a
glimpse of a river that reflected the blue sky, and the floating clouds.
There were fine houses with spacious lawns, and lovely gardens, and over
all the sunlight playing, and Polly felt that she was riding into an
enchanted country, over which Rose, and Great-Aunt Rose presided.

Polly did not notice what the brakeman said, but the maid did, and she
spoke quickly.

"Come, Miss Polly, here we are, and we'll do well to get off right now
before folks crowd toward the door. By the looks I think everyone means
to stop here!"

It certainly looked as if the maid had spoken truly, for men reached for
parcels that had been stowed in bundle racks, and women commenced to
gather up hand bags, and wraps.