The train slowed up but did not stop. They passed a village and then another and another. The country was not familiar to Judy. She read "Rambouillet" on a passing station, and then the fact became clear to her that she was on the wrong train, going from Paris instead of towards it.
"Rambouillet is at least twenty miles from Paris. Judy Kean, you idiot, you idiot, you idiot!"
Judy was in truth on the Chartres express with six sous in her pocket, left after she bought her ticket to Paris; and the one piece of jewelry she might have converted into enough cash at least to telegraph her friends, was pinned on the coat of that crazy old dancing fiend.
CHAPTER XIV.
COALS OF FIRE.
A furious, vociferous guard bundled Judy out of the coach, when on arriving at Chartres the door was unlocked. She showed her ticket to Paris and endeavored to explain her mistake and situation, but he was almost inarticulate with rage at her for having "stolen a ride" as he expressed it; and now she could look out for herself. It was none of his affair. She went into the waiting room to find out when the next train to Paris was due. She debated whether or not she should tell the ticket agent of her trouble and see if he could pass her back to Paris, but his appearance was so forbidding and his eyes so fishy that she could hardly make up her mind even to ask the time for the train. She made out from a bulletin that it was not due until ten at night. That would land her in Paris at midnight. In the meantime, she must raise enough money to pay for her ticket and hire a taxi when she got to Paris. She must also manage to send a telegram to Molly.
"Julia Kean, you have always thought yourself pretty clever and this is the first time in all your life you have had really and truly to depend on yourself. Now let's see what you can do. First thing, I warn you not to sniffle and get sorry for yourself. If you do, the game is up. Suppose I can't raise the spondulicks in time for the ten train! Maybe I had better drop a postal to Molly with some of my six sous so she can get it first pop in the morning."
This she accordingly did. She found a tobacco shop where stamps and postal cards were sold and mailed a piteous appeal to Molly. She then found a telegraph office and wrote a telegram to be sent collect, but the hard-hearted operator refused to send it unless she prepaid it, and that she could not do. Her French deserted her whenever she thought of explaining her situation to anyone. She kept her eye open for Americans or even English, but not a sign of a foreigner did she see.
"I might have raised a little money on the American flag if I only had not been so smart-Alec and given it to that old man. I wonder what possessed me to eat such an expensive lunch at Versailles! I fancy it was my virtuous resolve to be nice to Frances Andrews that made me feel like treating myself. Thank goodness for the gingerbread! I won't starve, at least," and she hugged to her faint heart the remains of her preserver in time of peril and need.