father and mother, with Bert and Nan, were right behind them, the two
little twins felt no fear, but rushed in, each one anxious to get a seat.

"I'm going to sit by a window!" cried Freddie.

"So'm I!" added Flossie, and both were soon kneeling on the rattan seats,
with their noses fairly flattened against the glass of the window. The few
passengers in the train smiled, for they knew the children must be from
somewhere outside of New York, as the little folk of that city are not so
eager to see the sights amid which they live.

It was not until the train had started, and had gone several blocks, that
Flossie and Freddie thought of their father and mother. They were greatly
interested in looking out of the windows, and watching the train rush past
at the level of the upper stories of the houses and stores along the
streets. It did seem so queer to them to be riding in a train high up in
the air, instead of on the ground.

"It's lots better than a tunnel, and I used to think they were lots of
fun!" said Flossie, fairly bubbling over with joy.

"It's great!" cried Freddie, and he flattened his nose out more than ever
against the glass, trying to look around a corner. For he had seen in one
window of a house a boy dropping from the window of his home a basket on a
string, and Freddie wanted to see why he was doing this.

It is no unusual sight in New York, to see children, not much larger than
the small Bobbsey twins, traveling about alone, so the other passengers
and the trainmen, after the first few smiles, paid no attention to Flossie
and Freddie. But the two themselves, after their first wonder at the