"Why, the platform's as crowded as our house was last night."

Mrs. Kinzer and her daughters were already the centre of a talkative
crowd of young people; and Ford Foster and Frank Harley, with Joe and
Fuz Hart, were asking what had become of Dab, for the train was in
sight.

A moment later, as the puffing locomotive pulled up in front of the
water-tank, the conductor stepped out on the platform, exclaiming,--

"Look a-here, folks, this ain't right. If there was going to be a picnic
you ought to have sent word, and I'd have tacked on an extra car. You'll
have to pack in now, best you can."

He seemed much relieved when he found how small a part of that crowd
were to be his passengers.

"Dab," said Ford, "this is your send-off, not ours. You'll have to make
a speech."

Dab did want to say something; but he had just kissed his sisters and
his mother, and half a dozen of his school-girl friends had followed the
example of Jenny Walters; and then Mrs. Foster had kissed him, and Ham
Morris had shaken hands with him; and Dab could not have said a word to
have saved his life.

"Speech!" whispered Ford mischievously, as Dab stepped upon the
car-platform; but Dick Lee, who had just escaped from the tremendous hug
his mother had given him, and had got his breath again, came to his