"Of course, it's a mistake--or else that big clock's wrong," declared
Nan Sherwood.
"No fear of a railroad clock's being wrong," said her chum, grumpily.
"That old time table was wrong. _They're_ always wrong. No more sense
to a time table than there is to a syncopated song. _It_ said we were
to arrive in this station three-quarters of an hour ago--and it turns
out that it meant an entirely different station and an entirely
different train."
Nan laughed rather ruefully. "I guess it is our own fault and not the
time table's. But the fact remains that we are in the wrong place, and at
the wrong time. Walter and Grace, of course, met that other train and,
not finding us, will have gone home, not expecting us till to-morrow."
"Goodness, what a pickle!" Bess complained. "And how will we find the
Mason's house, Nan Sherwood?"
The chums had the number and street of their friends' house, but it
occurred to neither of them to go to a telephone booth and call up the
house, stating the difficulty they were in. Nor did the girls think of
asking at the information bureau, or even questioning one of the
uniformed policemen about the huge station.
"Now, of course," Nan said firmly, "some street car must go within
walking distance of Grace's house."
"Of course, but which car?" demanded Bess.
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