For a moment she was too amazed to do or say anything. She stood watching the train draw nearer and stop at the little station.
Then she realised what had happened and she flew to the door and pounded on it with her little fists, crying, "Let me out! you awful, dreadful man, let me out!"
But the door did not open, and after a couple of minutes the train went on its way.
Then Briggs unlocked the door and came in. "Bless my soul!" he said, "if I didn't forget you wanted to go by that train! Well, it's too late now, so you might as well come on over to breakfast."
"You didn't forget it, any such thing! You locked me in here on purpose! You had no right to do it, and my father will pers—persecute you,—or whatever you call it!"
"Well, anyhow the train's gone, and you can't get it back, so make the best of things and smile and come along."
From sheer lack of anything better to do, Dolly rose and walked with Briggs across the street to his little cottage.
"Hello, Mother," he called out, as they entered, "I've brought a visitor to breakfast. Got enough to go round?"
"Yes, indeedy!" and a fat, comfortable looking woman smiled pleasantly at Dolly; "why, you poor baby, you're all tuckered out. Here sit right down and drink this fresh milk, it's a little warm yet. Take slow sips, now, don't swallow it all at once. Here's a nice piece of toast."
Dolly eagerly accepted the fresh milk and the golden-brown buttered toast, and was glad to follow Mrs. Briggs' advice and partake slowly.