hand. "We can boil it to-morrow, Sara, then I'll have the claws to suck;
where shall we put it so't it won't grip the baby?"

The laughter called forth by this characteristic escapade effectually
dispelled all tears and sadness.

Even Jasper grinned, as he handed the creature on to Morton, to be
thrown into the bait-box under the stern-seat, and, amid lighter sallies
and laughter, instead of tears, they rowed away. But Sara's eyes rested
upon her well-loved birthplace until they had rounded the lighthouse,
and the familiar scene was quite shut out by the intervening tongue of
land.

It was about mid-afternoon when the little party entered the railway
coach at Norcross; and this being Molly's first glimpse of a train of
cars, her eyes would have put an owl's to shame for size and roundness,
as she sat on the very edge of the seat, and stared uneasily about her.

Jasper, having fixed them comfortably, gave a hurried hand to each,
leaving the last for Sara. He had thought a dozen times just what he
would say to her at parting, but everything went out of his head in the
nervousness of that last anxious moment, with the engine apparently
determined to run away with all who would linger over their farewells,
and he simply uttered a choked "Well, good-by, Sairay!" as he held her
hand an instant in a trembling clasp.

"Good-by, Jasper, I shall not soon forget your kindness; but do hurry
off before the train starts." So does the rush and rattle of modern
times overpower romance and sentiment.