“Oh, Car’lyn May Cam’ron!” shrieked Freda.
“Trains under the ground?” demanded another of her schoolmates.
“Yes,” said the little city girl.
“Trains of cars? Like our trains up here?”
“Ye-es,” said Carolyn May slowly, feeling that her tale was disbelieved.
“My mercy!” declared the black-eyed girl. “That’s the biggest story you’ve told us yet. I’m going to tell my mamma about that. She says you’ve got such a ’magination. But I know this is just plain fib, and nothing else—so there!”
It hurt Carolyn May sorely to have her word doubted. She had begun to shrink from telling her little friends about any of the wonders which had been such commonplace matters to her when she had lived in New York. They simply could not believe the things the city child said were so.
It was on this very day, and at noon time, when Mr. Stagg was returning to the store, that a most astounding thing happened.
Had Mrs. Gormley seen it, that good woman would have had such a measure of gossip to relate as she had not enjoyed for a long time. It was, indeed, a most amazing occurrence.
Mr. Stagg was walking briskly towards Sunrise Cove in his big felt snow-boots, such as all men wore in that locality, and was abreast of the Parlow shop and cottage—which he always sought to avoid looking at—when he heard a door open and close.