The stations were a long way apart and the conductor did not come through for some time. When he did open the door and come into the car Carolyn May started up with a glad cry. It was the very conductor who had been so kind to her on the trip up from New York. The railroad man knew her at once and shook hands most heartily with her. “Where are you going, Carolyn May?” he asked. “All the way with you, sir,” she replied. “To New York?” “Yes, sir. I’m going home again.” “Then I’ll see you later,” he said, without asking for her ticket. The conductor remembered the little girl very well, although he did not remember all the details of her story. Nine months before she had gone up to Sunrise Cove with him to visit relatives. As she had travelled alone then, he did not think it strange that she was now travelling back again without any guardian. By-and-by he came back and sat down beside her. Carolyn May took out her purse and offered him money for her fare. “Didn’t they buy you a ticket?” he asked in surprise. “No, sir,” she told him honestly. “Well, I’ll tend to it for you. You’ll want that money for candy and moving-picture shows in the city.” He was very kind to her and brought her satisfying news about Prince in the baggage car. The brakeman was nice, too, and brought her water to drink in a paper cup. And even the “candy butcher” made the journey pleasanter by his attentions. He once dropped a package of candy in Carolyn May’s lap and then forgot to pick it up again! So, altogether, she had a pleasant, if tiresome, ride to New York City. At one place the brakeman brought into the car for her some sandwiches and a glass of milk. He assured her, too, that the men in the baggage car had divided their lunches with Prince and had given him water. She slept part of the time, and while she was awake there was so much going on that she could not feel very lonely. The excitement of travelling had taken that empty feeling out of her heart. At last, the long stretches of streets at right angles with the tracks appeared—asphalt streets lined with tall apartment houses. This could be nothing but New York City. Her papa had told her long ago that there was no other city like it in the world. She knew One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street and its elevated station. That was not where she had boarded the train going north, when Mr. Price had placed her in the conductor’s care, but it was nearer her old home—that she knew. So she told the brakeman she wanted to get out there, and he arranged to have Prince released. The little girl alighted and got her dog without misadventure. She was down on the street level before the train continued on its journey downtown. At the Grand Central Terminal the conductor was met with a telegram sent from Sunrise Cove by a certain frantic hardware dealer, and that telegram told him something about Carolyn May of which he had not thought to ask. CHAPTER XXIX—THE HOMING OF CAROLYN MAY