FullReads

“He’s an infernal cad for not meeting her,” he found himself saying, her pretty, distressed face still before him. “I don’t care a rap whether she’s doing right or wrong–she’s game. Still, she’s a blamed little fool to be travelling up here on such an outlandish train. So he’s visiting an uncle, eh? Then the chances are they’re not going to Eagle Nest. Lucky I waited here–I’d have lost them entirely if I’d gone back to Albany. But where the deuce is she to sleep till morn–” He heard rapid footsteps behind him and turned to distinguish Mrs. Wharton as she approached dimly but gracefully. The air seemed full of her.

“Oh, Mr.–Mr.–” she was saying eagerly.

“Rollins.”

“Isn’t there a later train, Mr. Rollins?”

“I’ll ask the agent.”

“There’s the flyer at three-thirty A. M.,” responded the sleepy agent a minute later.

“I’ll just sit up and wait for it,” she said coolly. “He has got the trains confused.”

“Good heavens! Till three-thirty?”

“But my dear Mr. Rollins, you won’t be obliged to sit up, you know. You’re not expecting any one, are you?”

“N-no, of course not.”

“By the way, why are you staying up?” He was sure he detected alarm in the question. She was suspecting him!

“I have nowhere to go, Miss–Mrs.–er–” She merely smiled and he said something under his breath. “I’m waiting for the eight o’clock train.”

“How lovely! What time will the three-thirty train get here, agent?”

“At half-past three, I reckon. But she don’t stop here!”

“Oh, goodness! Can’t you flag it–her, I mean?”

“What’s the use?” asked Rossiter. “He’s not coming on it, is he?”

“That’s so. He’s coming in a buggy. You needn’t mind flagging her, agent.”

“Well, say, I’d like to lock up the place,” grumbled the agent. “There’s no more trains to-night but Number Seventeen, and she don’t even whistle here. I can’t set up here all night.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t lock me out in the night, would you?” she cried in such pretty despair that he faltered.

“I got to git home to my wife. She’s–“

“That’s all right, agent,” broke in Rossiter hastily. “I’ll take your place as agent. Leave the doors open and I’ll go on watch. I have to stay up anyway.”

There was a long silence. He did not know whether she was freezing or warming toward him, because he dared not look into her eyes.

“I don’t know who you are,” she said distinctly but plaintively. It was very dark out there on the platform and the night air was growing cold.

“It is the misfortune of obscurity,” he said mockingly. “I am a most humble wayfarer on his way to the high hills. If it will make you feel any more comfortable, madam, I will say that I don’t know who you are. So, you see, we are in the same boat. You are waiting for a man and I am waiting for daylight. I sincerely trust you may not have as long to wait as I. Believe me, I regard myself as a gentleman. You are quite as safe with me as you will be with the agent, or with Mr.–Mr. Dudley, for that matter.”

“You may go home to your wife, Mr. Agent,” she said promptly. “Mr. Rollins will let the trains through, I’m sure.”

The agent stalked away in the night and the diminutive station was left to the mercy of the wayfarers.

“And now, Mr. Rollins, you may go over in that corner and stretch out on the bench. It will be springless, I know, but I fancy you can sleep. I will call you for the–for breakfast.”

“I’m hanged if you do. On the contrary, I’m going to do my best to fix a comfortable place for you to take a nap. I’ll call you when Mr. Dudley comes.”

“It’s most provoking of him,” she said, as he began rummaging through his steamer trunk. “What are you doing?”

“Hunting out something to make over into a mattress. You don’t mind napping on my clothes, do you? Here’s a soft suit of flannels, a heavy suit of cheviot, a dress suit, a spring coat, and a raincoat. I can rig up a downy couch in no time if–“