While she waited for Aunt Martha to return with the trunk, Jacqueline started to restrap the suitcase, but before she did so, she cast a hurried glance about, in search of the trunk-key. She was pretty sure that Aunt Martha would be asking for that, next. To her great relief, she found underneath the comb and brush case a shabby little red purse (Caroline’s purse!) and in it were the trunk-key, two pennies, and a fifty-cent piece. She pocketed the purse and its contents joyfully. Fair exchange was no robbery, and even after the porter had his fee, there were left a couple of dollars in the vanity bag (Jacqueline’s bag!) that Caroline had carried away.
By the time the suitcase was strapped, Aunt Martha came back with a man in shirt-sleeves who carried a trunk on his shoulder. Not at all a large trunk, praise be! but a little battered steamer-trunk, which went quite easily between the back and front seats of the Ford, with room enough besides for the suitcase, and Jacqueline’s red sweater, and some brown paper bundles and bags that were half-aunt Martha’s. One didn’t come to Baring Junction every day, it seemed, and one profited by the occasion to do a little shopping.
After the baggage was safely placed, Aunt Martha and Jacqueline settled themselves on the front seat, with the six-year-old girl between them.
“This is Nellie,” said Aunt Martha, “and this is your Cousin Caroline, Nellie.”
The little girl hung her head and smiled. She had a pointed chin and thick golden brown eyelashes. She seemed to Jacqueline rather a baby.
After a little rebellion on the part of the Ford, which Aunt Martha subdued in a capable manner, the car got under way. Jacqueline watched the process with interest. She knew a lot of funny stories about Fords, but she had never ridden in one before. Uncle Jimmie had a Locomobile, and Aunt Edie swore by her Marmon.
Rather spasmodically, as they got up speed, they rolled across the worn asphalt of the station park and into the one wide street of Baring Junction. Along the street were two-story buildings of brick, fruit shops and hardware shops and drygoods shops, as the wares that overflowed on the sidewalk bore witness, and drug shops. At sight of the large advertisements that shouted the joys of sundaes and cool drinks, Jacqueline remembered that she was thirsty. She remembered also the fifty cents in Caroline’s shabby red purse. She never dreamed that the gift of fifty cents, because Caroline must not go on a journey penniless, meant real generosity on Cousin Delia’s part.
“Let’s stop and get a drink,” begged Jacqueline. “My treat, of course. I’ve got fifty cents—enough for three fifteen-cent sodas.”
Aunt Martha turned her head and looked at her.
“Forty-five cents just for drinks?” she said. “You hang on to that half-dollar, Caroline. You’ll be needing it, like as not, for hair-ribbons.”