"What a lovely place!" she exclaimed as her eyes rested upon the rosewood and the velvet chairs. "Am I really to ride in this?"
"Why, where should you ride, to be sure?" he inquired, beginning to regain his self-possession.
"The car had iron seats before," she informed him.
"How extraordinary!"
"This is an ever so much prettier train," she added. "I'm afraid I'll hurt the plush." She took out a diminutive handkerchief and spread it out to sit upon. The clubman with an amused expression swung round another chair and sat down opposite.
"My name's Abigail Martha Higgins," she said, taking off her little straw hat. "I live in Bangor with my aunt. That old man was Uncle Moses Higgins. Aunt doesn't love his wife."
"Dear me!" sympathized McAllister.
"My father and mother are in heaven," she continued in matter-of-fact tones. "Up there. Wouldn't you hate to live up in the sky and do nothin'?"
"I certainly should," he answered with gravity.
"We all came down from there, you know. Do you think we were born all in one piece, or put together afterward?"