“But not in Maine?”
“No, not yet. I will let you know when we reach Maine.”
It was beautiful if it was not Maine, and the scenery kept changing. Not steady rows of trees like the Common, nor one little pond, but many trees set different ways and large ponds—“lakes,” Mona called them, and rivers.
Just when we were getting weariest, we had a very pleasant diversion. Anthony picked up a basket from the floor, and gave us all something to eat. How good those sandwiches tasted! Then he gave us some milk which he poured from bottles into a pan. I considered it was very thoughtful in him to have provided this lunch and said so.
“It was Mrs. Denville,” said Mona. “It would not have occurred to Anthony to do it.”
In the bottom of the basket were some nicer sandwiches for Anthony. He gave some to the baggage-master, and they seemed to calm him still more.
I went to sleep after our lunch. I actually had a real nap, till I was awakened by some one saying in my ear, “This is Maine, your lovely Maine.”
My eyes just flew open—lovely Maine; why it was the dirty part of a city that we were passing through.
“But this is not the country,” I said.
“No,” replied Mona, “but we shall soon come to the country parts. Maine has some towns and villages, you know. It is not all fields and woods.”