"Beth, do you remember one night when you were ready for bed in your little canton-flannel night-drawers, that you lost your temper over some trifling matter? You danced up and down, yelling, 'I won't. I won't.' I could hardly keep from laughing. My young spitfire looked very funny capering around and around, her long curls rumpled about her determined, flushed face, and her feet not still an instant in her flapping night-drawers. Many and many a time you escaped punishment, Beth, because you were so very comical even in your naughtiness." "I remember that night well," answered Beth. "You said, 'There, that bad girl has come back. Even though it's night, she'll have to go.'" "And," interrupted Mrs. Davenport, "you threw yourself into my arms, crying, 'Mamma, whip me, but don't send me away.' I knew better than to whip you, but I punished you by not kissing you good-night." "And I cried myself to sleep," put in Beth, snuggling more closely to her mother. "I thought I must be very naughty not to get my usual good-night kiss. I do try to be good, but it's very hard work sometimes. But I'll get the better of the bad girl, I'll leave her here in New York, so she won't bother you in Florida."---- Just then Mr. Davenport entered the room. He was a tall, dark man with a very kindly face. "I think the snow is not deep enough to detain the trains," he said. "It's time for us to start. The porter is here to take the trunks." "We'll be ready in a moment," answered his wife. "I fear we'll find it very disagreeable driving to the station." And, in truth, outside the weather proved bitterly cold. The wind swept with blinding power up the now mostly deserted thoroughfare. The Davenports were glad of the shelter of the carriage which carried them swiftly along the icy pavement. Mrs. Davenport drew her furs around her, while the children snuggled together. "I'm glad we're going, aren't you, Marian?" asked Beth, as they descended from the carriage at the station. "I guess so," answered Marian doubtfully, remembering the friends she was leaving behind, perhaps forever. Mr. Davenport already had their tickets, and the family immediately boarded a sleeper bound for Jacksonville. Beth loved to travel, and soon was on speaking terms with every one on the car. She hesitated slightly about being friends with the porter. He made her think of the first colored person she had ever seen. She remembered even now how the man's rolling black eyes had frightened her, although it was the blackness of his skin that had impressed her the most. She believed that he had become dirty, the way she sometimes did, only in a greater degree. "Mamma," she whispered, "I never get as black as that man, do I? Do you s'pose he ever washes himself?" Mrs. Davenport explained that cleanliness had nothing to do with the man's blackness. "Is he black inside?" Beth questioned in great awe.