"Is that so, Miss Smartie?" cried Bess. "But what car?"

She tried the door. It gave entrance to a baggage coach, dimly lit by a
lantern swinging from the roof. Nobody was in the car and the girls
walked hesitatingly forward.

"Oh!" squealed Bess, suddenly. "Here's my trunk."

"And here's mine," Nan said, and stopped to pat the side of the battered,
brown box stenciled "N.S." on its end. Nan had something very precious in
that trunk, and to tell the truth she wished she had that precious
possession out of the trunk right then.

"It's awfully cold in here, Bess," she said slowly.

"I guess they haven't got the steam turned on in this flat, either,"
returned Bess, laughing. "Nothing to freeze here but the trunks. Oh! oh!
what's that?"

Her startled cry was caused by a sudden sound from a dark corner--a
whimpering cry that might have been a baby's.

"The poor thing!" cried Nan, darting toward the sound. "They have
forgotten it, I know."

"A baby in a baggage car?" gasped Bess. "Whoever heard the like?"