“Oh! I’d like to have a brother like him,” she thought. “I don’t care if he is slangy—and fresh. I guess he wouldn’t be so if—as he says—everybody didn’t try to poke fun at his red hair. And how homely he is!”
She smiled happily over some of Scorch’s sayings and his impish doings; so they were some miles on the journey before she began to look about the car.
Her ticket had called for a chair in the parlor-car; and she immediately discovered that she was not the only girl who seemed to be traveling alone.
At least there were half a dozen girls not far from her own age who were chattering together some distance forward of her seat. When the conductor came along he smiled down upon Nancy and asked, as he punched her ticket:
“You going to Pinewood, too?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your first term there?”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
“Then you don’t know these other girls?” and he nodded to the group further up the car.
“No, sir. Are they going there, too?” asked Nancy, eagerly.