To tell the truth, there seemed to be no other place, and he took her to the public "lock-up."
Elsie was too worn and spent to mind; too hungry was she not to devour eagerly the bit of salt fish and hard cracker which her new friend gave her; then forgetting her woes, she fell asleep once more, safely wrapped in his warm overcoat.
But, in the morning, waking in a strange place, all the terror of last night came upon her once more. Through an open door she darted like a startled hare, and when No. 11 came, an hour later, to find her, no child was visible. All that was left was the small rubber cape with its red collar.
"I must find some cars," thought Elsie. "I can't get home unless I find some cars."
It must have been her guardian angel who led the little girl, for, as she walked hastily along, right in front of her loomed up a big building, in and out of which locomotives were running.
"Would you please point out the train for Porter's Corner?" said Elsie, tremblingly approaching a man who was pushing round some trunks.
"Bless you! you're at the wrong station for that, sissy or bubby, whichever you be," said the man, glancing from the girl's dress to the boy's cap. "But there," added he, as the brown eyes filled with tears, "a gravel train's just going across the city to the Eastern Dépôt. Come with me, and I'll take you there."
Down the track Elsie rode, perched on a heap of gravel.
"I cal'late you've got a ticket for Porter's Corner?" said her companion.
Here was fresh trouble. No ticket had she, and, what was worse, not a penny to buy one.