Josephine tried to obey to the very letter. She did not even lay aside the doll she had clasped to her breast, nor turn her head to look out of the window. The enchanting, fairy-like landscape might fly by and by her in its bewildering way; she dared gaze upon it no more.
After a while there were lights in the coach, and these made Josephine's eyes blink faster and faster. They blinked so fast, in fact, that she never knew when they ceased doing so, or anything that went on about her, till she felt herself lifted in somebody's arms, and raised her heavy lids, to see the shiny-blue man's face close above her own, and to hear his voice saying:
"Poor little kid! Make her berth up with double blankets, Bob, and keep an eye on it through the night. My! Think of a baby like this making a three-thousand-mile journey alone. My own little ones—Pshaw! What made me remember them just now?"
Then Josephine felt a scratchy mustache upon her check, and a hard thing which might have been a brass button jam itself into her
