being torn into a dozen pieces trying to pay attention to everybody. Now the train was bearing her rapidly away from Dad and Mother and all the dear old friends toward a new life at Granard.

“Perhaps I’d have been wiser to have followed Mother’s suggestion about the sleeper,” she thought, as she tried to stifle another great yawn. “Maybe if I take a little nap now, I’ll feel fresh for the rest of the day.”

Turning her chair toward the window, and leaning back, her hands on the broad arms, she was almost immediately floating in a delicious sea of semi-unconsciousness which became deeper and deeper until she was completely lost to the world about her. After a while, however, a most persistent dream began to disturb her peaceful sleep, a dream about a soft grey kitten whose silky fur she kept stroking, stroking until her hand was tired; but yet she could not stop. After a time she began to realize that she was dreaming, and made a desperate effort to free herself from the world of sleep by closing her fingers sharply on the little animal’s neck and giving it a shove.

Then with a sudden start at some movement close to her she sat bolt upright and opened her eyes just in time to see a pair of long legs, the ankles clad in grey silk socks, hastily removing themselves from the ledge beside her chair.

“Good Heavens!” she thought, horror-stricken. “I do hope those weren’t the kitten!”

CHAPTER II ANNE

Swinging her chair sharply about to face the aisle, she met the amused gaze of a red-haired girl of about her own age.

“Tell me,” begged Patricia impulsively, leaning forward, “was I—doing anything—unusual while I was asleep?”

“I’ll say you were,” responded the girl, smiling broadly.

“What?”

“You—you were—stroking the ankles of that young man back of you as if your life depended on it,” choked the stranger.

“No!” cried Patricia, in great distress.

“Yes! Then suddenly you pinched the poor fellow, and I thought I’d just die!”

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