“Don't look so, Polly,” said Alexia, “we'll start pretty soon, I guess.”
The governess, Miss Baker, came over from the opposite seat to stand in the aisle. “I think we'll start soon,” she said. But her eyes looked worried.
“What is it—oh, Miss Baker, what is the reason we're stopping?” cried two or three of the girls.
“I don't know,” said the governess.
A man coming in from outside, where a lot of gentlemen were pouring out of the cars to investigate, furnished the information.
“Driving wheel broken,” he said, being sparing of words.
“Oh, can't we go out to see?” cried Alexia, hopping out of her seat. “Come on,” and she was prancing down the aisle.
“No, indeed,” said Miss Baker in displeasure, “and do you come directly back,” she commanded.
“Oh dear me!” grumbled Alexia to Sally, who had tumbled out after her, “she's worse than Miss Anstice—stiff, precise old thing!” She came slowly back.
“That a young lady under my care,” said Miss Baker, lifting her black gloves in amazement, “should so far forget herself as to want to run out on that track with a lot of men! I am astonished.”