"That's all right," explained the farmer. "Her aunt'll meet her. Jest see she don't bother no one. Lemme pass ye her duds."
The octogenarian forthwith handed up to McAllister a cloth valise, a pasteboard box, and a large paper bag.
"Her lunch is in the bag," said he. "Don't let her drink none o' that ice-water. My wife says it hez germs into it."
"But I don't . . ." gasped our friend.
"Be keerful o' that box," interrupted her uncle. "There's two dozen hen's eggs in it. If she's good, you might buy her a cent's worth o' peppermints to Portland." He fumbled uncertainly in his breeches' pocket.
"Do you expect me . . ." ejaculated McAllister.
"Give my love to yer aunt," added the other as the train started. "Good-by!" And pulling a large red pocket-handkerchief from his coat-tails he fanned the air vaguely as they moved slowly away from him.
"Oh, isn't it nice!" cried the little girl, who appeared quite at ease with her new acquaintance.
"Ye-es—certainly—of course," he replied, wondering what he should do with his charge. "I suppose we had better go in and sit down, don't you think?"
He stood aside waiting for her to precede him into the parlor car.