“And,” interrupted Mrs. Davenport, “you threw yourself into my arms, crying, ‘Mamma, whip me, but don’t send me away.’  I knew better than to whip you, but I punished you by not kissing you good-night.”

“And I cried myself to sleep,” put in Beth, snuggling more closely to her mother.  “I thought I must be very naughty not to get my usual good-night kiss.  I do try to be good, but it’s very hard work sometimes.  But I’ll get the better of the bad girl, I’ll leave her here in New York, so she won’t bother you in Florida.”——­

Just then Mr. Davenport entered the room.  He was a tall, dark man with a very kindly face.

“I think the snow is not deep enough to detain the trains,” he said.  “It’s time for us to start.  The porter is here to take the trunks.”

“We’ll be ready in a moment,” answered his wife.  “I fear we’ll find it very disagreeable driving to the station.”

And, in truth, outside the weather proved bitterly cold.  The wind swept with blinding power up the now mostly deserted thoroughfare.  The Davenports were glad of the shelter of the carriage which carried them swiftly along the icy pavement.  Mrs. Davenport drew her furs around her, while the children snuggled together.

“I’m glad we’re going, aren’t you, Marian?” asked Beth, as they descended from the carriage at the station.

“I guess so,” answered Marian doubtfully, remembering the friends she was leaving behind, perhaps forever.

Mr. Davenport already had their tickets, and the family immediately boarded a sleeper bound for Jacksonville.

Beth loved to travel, and soon was on speaking terms with every one on the car.  She hesitated slightly about being friends with the porter.  He made her think of the first colored person she had ever seen.  She remembered even now how the man’s rolling black eyes had frightened her, although it was the blackness of his skin that had impressed her the most.  She believed that he had become dirty, the way she sometimes did, only in a greater degree.

“Mamma,” she whispered, “I never get as black as that man, do I?  Do you s’pose he ever washes himself?”

Mrs. Davenport explained that cleanliness had nothing to do with the man’s blackness.

“Is he black inside?” Beth questioned in great awe.

“No.  All people are alike at heart.  Clean thinking makes even the black man white within, dear.”

Beth had not seen another colored person from that time until this.  Therefore, she was a little doubtful about making up with the porter.  But he proved so very genial that before night arrived, he and “little missy,” as he called Beth, were so very friendly that he considered her his special charge.

That night both children slept as peacefully as if they had been in their own home.

In the morning, Beth was wakened by Marian pulling up the shade.  A stream of sunshine flooded their berth, blinding Beth for a second or two.  Snow and clouds had been left far behind.