"Mercy! it would never do to spring our Texas yell to-day," chuckled Tilly, eyeing the assembled crowd; "but wouldn't I like to, though!" "There's nothing dead about Sunbridge now, sure," laughed Genevieve. "I should say not," declared Harold Day, who had begged the privilege of going to Boston to see them aboard their train for Washington. "For you see," he had argued, "it's to my state, after all, that you are going, so I ought to be allowed to do the honors at this end of the trip as long as I can't at the other!" They were off at last, Mrs. Kennedy, Mr. Hartley, the six girls, and Harold. But what a scrambling it was, and what a confusion of chatter, laughter, "good-byes," and "write soons"! In Boston there was a thirty-minute wait in the South Station before their train was due to leave; but long before the thirty minutes were over, the usually serene face of Mrs. Kennedy began to look flushed and worried. "Genevieve, my dear," she expostulated at last, "can't you keep those flutterbudget girls somewhere near together? It will be time, soon, to take our train, and only Cordelia is in sight. Not even Harold and your father are here!" Genevieve laughed soothingly. "I know, Aunt Julia; but they'll be here, I'm sure. There's still lots of time," she added, glancing proudly at her pretty new watch. "But where are they all?" "Tilly and Elsie have gone for some soda water, and Bertha for a sandwich at the lunch counter. She said she just couldn't eat a thing before she left home. Alma Lane has gone to a drug store across the street. I don't know where father and Harold are. They went off together, and--oh, here they are!" she broke off in relief, as the two wanderers appeared. "And now," summoned Mr. Hartley, "we'll be off to our car! Why, where are the rest of us?" "Well, they--they aren't all here," frowned Genevieve, a little anxiously. As at Sunbridge, it was a rush and a scramble at the last. Tilly, Elsie, and Bertha came back, but Genevieve went to look for Alma Lane; and when Alma returned without having seen Genevieve, Harold had to run post-haste for her. "Sure, dearie," said Mr. Hartley to his daughter, laughingly, when at last he had his charges all in the car, "this is a little worse than trying to corral a bunch of bronchos!" "Oh, but we won't be so bad again," promised the girl, waving her hand to Harold, who stood alone outside the window, watching them a little wistfully. They had a merry time getting settled, and more than one tired countenance in the car brightened at sight of the six eager young faces. "I couldn't get all five sections together," frowned Mr. Hartley. "I got three here, but the other two are down near the end of the car--you know the porter showed you. Do you think we can make them go, some way?" he questioned Mrs. Kennedy, anxiously. "I planned for you to have one of the sections down there by yourself, perhaps, with two of the young ladies in the other. Will that do?"