He declined it civilly with thanks.  In fact, he was thinly and quite too lightly clad, and he not only felt the cold, but was unhappy and utterly unprepared by any previous experience for the mode of travel, the crowded car and the rough kindness of the people, who liking his curly hair and refined young childlike face would have been of service if he had accepted their advances with any pleasure.  Presently, after four in the afternoon, the brakeman called “All out for Westways Crossing.”

John seized his bag and was at the exit-door before the train came to a stand.  The conductor bade him be careful, as the steps were slippery.  As the engine snorted and the train moved away, the conductor cried out, “Forgot your cane, sonny,” and threw the light gold-mounted bamboo from the car.  He had a new sense of loneliness as he stood on the roofless platform, half a foot deep in gathering snow, which driven by a pitiless gale from the north blew his cloak about as he looked to see that his trunk had been delivered.  A man shifted a switch and coming back said, “Gi’me your check.”  John decided that this was not safe, and to the man’s amusement said that he would wait until the carriage of Captain Penhallow arrived.  The man went away.  John remained angrily expectant looking up the road.  Presently he heard the gay jingle of bells and around a turn of the road came a one-horse sleigh.  It stopped beside him.  He first saw only the odd face of the driver in a fur cap and earlets.  Then, tossing off the bear skins, bounded on to the platform a young girl and shook herself snow-free as she threw back a wild mane of dark red hair.

“Halloa!  John Penhallow,” she cried, “I’m Leila Grey.  I’m sent for you.  I’m late too.  Uncle James has gone to the mills and Aunt Ann is busy.  Been here long?”

“Not very,” said John, his teeth chattering with cold.

“Gracious! you’ll freeze.  Sorry I was late.”  She saw at a glance the low shoes, the blue cloak, the kid gloves, the boy’s look of suffering, and at once took possession of him.

“Get into the sleigh.  Oh! leave your check on the trunk or give it to me.”  She was off and away to the trunk as he climbed in, helpless.  She undid the counter check, ran across to the guard’s house, was back in a moment and tumbled in beside him.

“But, is it safe?  My trunk, I mean,” said John.

“Safe.  No one will steal it.  Pat will come for it.  There he is now.  Tuck in the rugs.  Put this shawl around you and over your head.”  She pinned it with ready fingers.

“Now, you’ll be real comfy.”  The chilled boy puzzled and amused her.

As he became warm, John felt better in the hands of this easy despot, but was somewhat indignant.  “To send a chit of a girl for him—­John Penhallow!”

“Now,” she cried to the driver, “be careful.  Why did they send you?”

Billy, a middle-aged man, short-legged and long of body, turned a big-featured head as he replied in an odd boyish voice, “The man was busy giving a ball in the stable.”