"Don't, Bob," and when he gave her no heed, she added, "I'm afraid it'll hurt the tree. I know it hurts me greatly when any one pulls my hair."
He laughed more than ever at her, until Beth grew ashamed, and meekly accepted the moss that he piled up in her little arms.
The hot box so delayed the train that Jacksonville was not reached until the middle of the night.
Bob took a sleeping child in his arms, and carried her out to the bus.
"Good-bye, little missy," he murmured, before handing her to her father.
Her arms tightened around his neck while her eyes opened for a second.
"Don't leave me, Bob. I love you."
Then she did not remember anything more until she wakened in a strange room the next morning.
At first, she could not think where she was. Then it came to her that she was in a hotel in Jacksonville. She sprang out of bed, and ran to a window. The room faced a park, and afforded Beth her first glimpse of tropical beauty. Strange trees glistened in the glorious sunshine. From pictures she had seen, Beth recognized the palms, and the orange trees. Below, on the piazza, the band was playing "Dixie." Delighted as Beth was, she did not linger long by the window, but dressed as fast as she could.
Mr. Davenport entered the room.