“You’ve got a tongue in your head,” he said roughly. “All you’ve got to do is to inquire when you are in doubt. I will go to the depot with you, and buy your tickets.”
Mrs. Walsh made no further objection, and they took their way to the depot.
“I wonder what’s up,” thought Tom.
They reached the depot and went into the reception-room. Mr. Lindsay went out, and returned shortly with two strips of tickets, which he gave to granny, explaining in what way they would be called for. He then took out a roll of bills, and gave her. Then ensued a whispered conversation, of which Tom only heard detached words, from which she was unable to gather a definite idea. Then they entered the cars, and Mr. Lindsay left them, with a last injunction, “Mind she don’t escape.”
“I’ll take care,” nodded granny.
Soon the cars were on their way. It was the first time within her remembrance that Tom had ridden in the cars, and she looked out of the window with great interest, enjoying the rapid motion and the changing views. At last, yielding to curiosity, she turned and addressed the old woman.
“Where are we goin’, granny?”
“Never you mind!” said granny.
“But I do mind. Are we goin’ far?”
“None of your business!”