“Your Sally.”

It really is not necessary to report what was said in Sally’s home upon the receipt of this announcement.  There was a good deal of excited talking done, and a number of statements were made to the effect that it was out of the question for Sally to be spared all winter, that she should have waited for the consent of her family before deciding on such an absence, and that it absolutely must not be allowed.  Yet, after all, when it came to forbidding it, nobody seemed to have quite the authority to do that.  Even Max, protesting that the thing was out of all reason, and going so far as to take his pen in hand to write his refusal to permit it, found himself brought to a halt by the remembrance that Sally was showing more and more evidences of possessing a will of her own, and of being perfectly competent to carry out its dictates when they seemed to her right.  Clearly she did not want to go South with Uncle Timothy—­or with anybody else.  There was a homesick touch in more than one line of the stoutly written letter—­unquestionably Sally would not be doing this thing if she were not persuaded of her duty.

At one o’clock in the morning of Saturday a party of people stood in the great electric-lighted station.  Again the offices of Mr. Jarvis Burnside had taken the group past the usual hindrances and established them on a certain platform, nearly in the centre of the rows of tracks, where the Southbound Limited would come in.  This time their numbers were considerably augmented by the presence of Mrs. Burnside and Josephine, Donald and Janet Ferry.  Various packages encumbered the arms of each member of the party, and appearances certainly boded well for the reception of the young traveller who at the moment was watching eagerly, as the train rolled through the familiar streets, for the first sign of approach to the station.

“Here she comes!” Bob was the first to cry, pointing to a brilliant headlight just rounding into view on the distant track.  “Jolly, I’ll bet Sally’s wide awake, if she ever was in her life!”

“I expect we’re going to find out now how dreadfully short twenty minutes can be,” said Janet Ferry to Jarvis, beside whom she stood, an attractively put-up basket of hot-house grapes in her hand.

He nodded, watching the great headlight grow all too slowly bigger and bigger.  “Even the twenty minutes will probably be cut short.  The train’s considerably overdue now.”

The long line of sleepers came to a stand-still beside them, and they scanned the cars anxiously for the first sign of Sally.  Far down the track could be seen a coloured porter waving in their direction, and the next instant a girl in dark blue jumped off the step of the Pullman and ran toward them.  They ran to meet her, Bob and Alec outstripping the rest, and when the others arrived all that could be seen of Sally Lane was the top of a bright head on Bob’s shoulder, both blue arms about his neck, his affectionate hand patting her back.