When tea was ready, the whistling man seemed to know it, and came in. It didn't look very inviting to me. The biscuits were specked with brown spots as if the oven had freckled them; and I didn't like molasses for sauce.
I thought of home, and the nice supper cousin Lydia was eating there, and could almost see her sitting next to mother, with my purse in her pocket, and my ticket too. And I could almost see Fel, and hear her queer grandpa asking her questions, while Miss Rubie looked on, all smiling, and dressed in her wedding-gown, of course.
They all thought I was lost, and they should never see me again. Perhaps they never would. How could I go home without a ticket? Once there was a man put off the car because he couldn't show a ticket. Fel saw the "driver" do it.
That thought choked me, together with the sudden recollection that I hadn't told Harr'et my purse was gone. She and Peter might be expecting to make quite a little sum out of my board, enough to keep the roof on a while longer.
"Do eat, child," said the man.
"I didn't tell you, sir," I sobbed, "that the railroad ran off with my purse,—cousin Lydia, I mean,—and I haven't the leastest thing to pay you with!"
I drew out my handkerchief in a great hurry, and out flew the pancake. Peter and Harriet looked at it and smiled, and I hid my face in shame.
"Never you worry your little head about money," said Peter, kindly. "I know young ladies about your size ain't in the habit of travelling with their pockets full of rocks——let alone doughnuts."
O, what a kind man! And how I had mistaken him! I forgave him at once for calling me poor sissy.
"If you've done your supper, Peter, I motion you take her out and show her the sheep and lambs."