time, many of his possessions were stowed away in its depths; books, games, his air-rifle, several yards of mosquito netting for butterfly-nets, a choice collection of fish-hooks, and an odd assortment of strings and small articles of hardware that filled it to the brim, leaving room for not so much as a single handkerchief. Each day he added to his hoard, to the amusement of his mother, who let him have his way until the final packing, when she should bring order out of chaos.
Fred scarcely looked forward to their going with as much pleasure as Rob, for at the idea of the journey and of meeting so many strangers, his shy sensitiveness returned in all its force, and he would gladly have spent the time alone with the servants at his father’s house, rather than run the gauntlet of the curious and thoughtless, though not unkind comments that always met him when he went among strangers.
However, it was a merry party that, one cloudy August morning, Mr. Carter escorted as far as Boston, and settled in the train for Albany, where they were to change to a
