"I can't help it. It would be just as bad for me." "When does the train go to York, somebody?" asked the old lady, looking about her in a general way. "Next train; comes round in about five minutes." Sam helped the old lady back into the depot, rather ashamed of the mistake he had made. He saw that she had lost some of her confidence in him, and it mortified him somewhat. It was nearly ten minutes afterwards,--for the train was late, before the right cars came up. Sam dashed into the depot again, and seized a bandbox. "Here's the cars. Come along," he said. "I won't stir a step till I know if it's the right cars," said the old lady firmly. "Then you may stay here," said Sam. "I'm goin'." "Don't leave your grandmother," said a gentleman, standing by. "She isn't my grandmother. Isn't this the train to New York?" "Yes." Sam seized the bandbox once more, and this time the old lady followed him. They got into the cars without difficulty, and the old lady breathed a sigh of relief. Sam took a seat at the window just behind her, and his heart bounded with exultation as he reflected that in a few hours he would be in the great city, of which he had such vague and wonderful ideas. The only drawback to his enjoyment was the loss of his usual morning meal. The crackers helped to fill him up, but they were a poor substitute for the warm breakfast to which he had been accustomed at the deacon's. Still Sam did not wish himself back. Indeed, as he thought of the deacon's bewilderment on discovering his disappearance, he broke into an involuntary laugh. "What are you laffin' at?" asked the old lady, suspiciously. Sam answered, "I was thinkin' how near we came to bein' carried off to the wrong place." "That aint anything to laff at," said the old lady, grimly. CHAPTER XI. FIRST EXPERIENCES IN THE CITY. There are few boys who do not enjoy a trip on the railroad, especially for the first time. The five hours which Sam spent on his journey gave him unqualified delight. Occasionally his attention was called off from the scenery by an exclamation from the old lady, who at every jolt thought the cars were off the track. Sam liberally patronized the apple and peanut merchant, who about once an hour walked through the cars. The crackers which he had purchased at the grocery store had not spoiled his appetite, but rather appeared to sharpen it. The old lady apparently became hungry also, for she called the apple vender to her. "What do you ask for them apples?" she inquired. "The largest are three cents apiece, the smallest, two cents." "That's an awful price. They aint worth half that." "We can't sell 'em for less, and make any profit." "I'll give you a cent for that one," she continued, pointing to the largest in the basket. "That! Why, that's a three-center. Can't take it nohow." "I'll give you three cents for them two." "No, ma'am, you may have 'em for five cents." "Then I won't buy 'em. My darter will give me plenty for nothin'."