In order that Patty might get home in time for school on Monday morning, she and Grandma were obliged to take a very early train from Vernondale.

So Marian and Frank went down with them to see them safely on the half-past seven train, and Brownie, the dog, accompanied them.

As usual, Marian was loath to let Patty go, and clung to her until the last minute.

Frank had already established Grandma in the train, and the conductor was about to ring the bell when, at the last minute, Patty jumped on.

The train was almost starting, but the conductor assisted Patty, and she seated herself beside Grandma, quite out of breath from her hasty entrance.

“I just hated to leave Marian,” she said, “for she did seem so sorry to have me go. But I promised to come back here to spend Thanksgiving, or else to have her spend it with me in New York, and that seemed to help matters a little.”

“You’d better have her plan to come to see you,” said Grandma, “for I think your father expects that Nan will be in New York about that time.”

“All right,” said Patty; “I don’t care as long as Marian and I are together. But for goodness’ sake, Grandma, will you look at that!”

Now “that” was nothing more nor less than Brownie, the dog, sitting in the aisle, blinking at them and contentedly wagging his tail.

“How did he get there?” said Grandma, with a bewildered, helpless air.

“I don’t know,” said Patty, laughing, “but there he is, and now the question is, what shall we do with him?”

Brownie seemed intelligently interested in this question, and continued to wag his tail and blink at Patty with an expression on his funny old dog face that was very like a wink.

“Marian will be worried to death,” said Grandma, with an air of consternation.

“Of course she will,” assented Patty, cheerfully, “but that isn’t the worst of it. The thing is, what are we to do with him now? You know they don’t allow dogs on the train.”

“I never thought of that,” said Grandma, helplessly; “will he have to go in the baggage-car?”

“There isn’t any baggage-car on this train. We’ll either have to throw him out of the window or hide him.”

“All right; we’ll hide him,” and Grandma coaxed Brownie to jump up into her lap. Then she pulled her travelling-cloak over him, until he was entirely concealed from view.

But the inquisitive conductor insisted on knowing what had become of the dog that followed these particular ladies on the train.

“He’s here,” exclaimed Grandma, throwing open her cloak and showing the quivering animal.

“He must be put off,” said the conductor, sternly; “we do not want dogs on the train.”

“All right,” said Patty, cheerfully; “neither do we. And the sooner you put him off, and us with him, the better it will be all around. For you see, Grandma,” she went on, “we’ve got to take Brownie back to Vernondale. Marian will have four thousand fits if we don’t, and, besides, we couldn’t possibly take him to The Wilberforce.”

Grandma said nothing; the emergency was too much for her to cope with, and she was glad to depend on Patty’s advice.

So Patty said to the conductor: “Please put us off just as soon as you can, for we have to take this dog back to Vernondale.”

But with the characteristic perversity of conductors, he said, “No stop, Miss, until Elizabeth. You can get off there—all of you.”

This was nearly half way to New York City, but there was no other way out of it, so, as Patty cheerfully remarked to Grandma, they might as well make up their minds to get off at Elizabeth and take Brownie back to Vernondale.

“Of course,” Patty went on, “I shall be late to school, and I’ll lose a mark, and that’ll throw Clementine ahead of me in the count, for we have been just even up to now; but I can’t help it; Marian’s dog must be taken home, and that’s all there is about that.”

Although Grandma Elliott regretted the necessity of Patty’s losing a mark, for she well knew how the child was striving for the grand prize, yet she appreciated and admired the philosophy which made the best of inevitable circumstances, and she agreed with Patty that there was nothing else to do.

So at Elizabeth they got off of the train, and with some difficulty persuaded Brownie to get off, too.

At this station it was necessary to cross under the elevated tracks to take the train in the opposite direction. Brownie, being ignorant of the imperative necessities of travel, objected to this, and it was only after some coaxing that Patty persuaded him to accompany them.

Meantime there was consternation at the Vernondale end of the route. After the seven-thirty train had left the station, Frank and Marian suddenly realised that since they could see Brownie nowhere around he must have gone on the train with Patty.

“What will they do?” queried Marian; “they can’t take him to New York, and I know they won’t abandon him, so of course they’ll turn around and bring him back on the next train.”

“Of course they will,” assented Frank; “but, let me see, the next train back doesn’t leave Elizabeth until eight-ten; now, if I take the seven-forty I can head them off, and they won’t have to come back.”

“That’s a great scheme,” said Marian; “go ahead! and I will wait here until you come back.”

So Frank took the next train, but as it chanced to be behind time, he reached Elizabeth just as the returning train was pulling out of the station, with Patty on board.

Expecting some such complication, Patty stood on the platform, and waved her hand to Frank, whom she saw on the incoming train.

“Brownie’s all right,” she cried, “but we’ll have to go back, now we’re started.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Frank called back, realising that his journey had been for nought.

So Patty and Grandma and the dog whizzed into the Vernondale station and alighted to find Marian tearful and almost in hysterics.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she said, “and I’m so glad to see Brownie, and Frank has gone to Elizabeth, and Patty, won’t you be late to school, and did you ever know such a performance?”

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