CHAPTER III.
A BABY IN A BLUE CLOAK.
Dotty had begun to smile again, and was talking pleasantly with her father, when there was a sudden rocking of the cars, or, as Prudy had called it, a "car-quake." Dotty would have been greatly alarmed if she had not looked up in her father's face and seen that it was perfectly tranquil.

They had run over a cow.
This little accident gave a new turn to the child's thoughts.

She gazed at the conductor with some distrust.

If he did not take care of the cars, what made him wear that printed hat-band?
She supposed that in some mysterious way he drove or guided the furious iron horse; and when she saw him sitting at ease, conversing with the passengers, she was not satisfied; she thought he was neglecting his duty.
"I s'pose," mused she, finishing the final crumb of her sandwich,--"I s'pose there are two kinds of conductors in cars, same as in thunder.
One is a _non_, and the other isn't.

I'm afraid this man is a _non_; if he is, he will conduct us all to pieces." Still her fear was not very active; it did not prevent her having a good time.