A BABY IN A BLUE CLOAK.
Dotty had begun to smile again, and was talking pleasantly with her father, when there was a sudden rocking of the cars, or, as Prudy had called it, a "car-quake." Dotty would have been greatly alarmed if she had not looked up in her father's face and seen that it was perfectly tranquil. They had run over a cow.
This little accident gave a new turn to the child's thoughts. She gazed at the conductor with some distrust. If he did not take care of the cars, what made him wear that printed hat-band? She supposed that in some mysterious way he drove or guided the furious iron horse; and when she saw him sitting at ease, conversing with the passengers, she was not satisfied; she thought he was neglecting his duty.
"I s'pose," mused she, finishing the final crumb of her sandwich,—"I s'pose there are two kinds of conductors in cars, same as in thunder. One is a non, and the other isn't. I'm afraid this man is a non; if he is, he will conduct us all to pieces."
Still her fear was not very active; it did not prevent her having a good time. She saw that her father was comfortable, and this fact reassured her somewhat. If they were going to meet with a dreadful accident, wouldn't he be likely to know it?
She began to look about her for something diverting. At no great distance was a little baby in a blue cloak. Not a very attractive baby, but a great deal better than none.
"Papa, there's more room on the seat by that lady's bandbox. Mayn't I ask to take care of her baby?"
"Yes, dear, if she is willing."
Dotty danced down the aisle, thinking as she went,—
"My father lets me do every single thing. If we had mamma with us, sometimes she'd say, No."