But they were not yet safe--away!
away! Missy urged them westward, for no defined reason save that
this direction might increase their distance from the danger zone of
the High School.
Still without notion of whither bound, the runaways, moist and
dishevelled, found themselves down by the railroad tracks. There, in
front of the Pacific depot, stood the 10:43 "accommodation" for
Osawatomie and other points south. Another idea out of the blue!
"Let's go to Osawatomie!" cried Missy.
The accommodation was puffing laboriously into action as the last
Junior clambered pantingly on. But they'd all got on! They were on
their way!
But not on their way to Osawatomie.
For before they had all found satisfactory places on the red plush
seats where it was hard to sit still with that bright balminess
streaming in through the open windows--hard to sit still, or to
think, or to do anything but flutter up and down and laugh and
chatter about nothing at all--the conductor appeared.
"Tickets, please!"
A trite and commonplace phrase, but potent to plunge errant, winging
fancies down to earth.
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