“Sleep alone in a station!” exclaimed Tavia.  “I’m not afraid of anything—­but—­I don’t believe I’d like to stay in this—­place all night.  I have a horror of rats.”

“Rats!  No rats around here.  I’ve got the best cat in the country.  Switch is his name, an’ that’s him—­he’s no slouch.”

“But shut up alone with a big strange cat——­” and Tavia looked at the animal curled up under the beautifully-blacked and summer-shined stove.

“Well, you kin do as you please, miss, but there ain’t no more trains your way to-night, supposin’ you did have a ticket.”

Tavia looked out over the gloom that was quickly descending upon the little hamlet.  Soon it would be night!  No one but that station agent in sight!  No place to go, but over the hills to his boarding house, or perhaps to some farm house; where, should she have the courage to make her way through the fields up to a cabin, perhaps fierce dogs, that were already howling and barking, would become more her enemies than would be the cat, and the solitude of the station.

“And is there no church—­no minister’s house where a stranded girl might get shelter?”

“Nice young girls don’t often get stranded,” replied the old man not unreasonably, “and if I was you I’d keep my trouble purty much to myself.  You kin depend upon Sam Dixon.  If I say I’ll do a thing I’ll do it; and no harm will come to you in this here station for a night.  Besides, I come over for the ten o’clock train, and I’m back for the milk train before daylight.”

Something about this speech convinced Tavia she was unfortunate, and it would be best to keep her trouble to herself, for what would strangers care about her predicament?  Could she deny that it was through her own fault that she had been thus situated?

“I’m goin’ along now, and say,” said the agent, “if you like I’ll just lock the office, and give you the outside door key.  There ain’t no tramps, but if you should be timid, before I come back, just turn the key in the door.”

“Oh, thank you,” Tavia was compelled to say, for this was a condescension; “I’m sure I shall not be afraid—­in the twilight.”

“Well, take the key anyhow,” and locking the inner office he came out in the open room.  “I’ll fetch you a bite—­I’m glad I ain’t got no gals to—­get left over from way trains.”

How Tavia Travers ever choked down the biscuit and the slice of ham that Sam Dixon brought back to her that night—­how she actually fondled old gray Switch, and was glad of his friendly purring during that long, dreary night, as she lay cuddled up in the very farthest corner bench—­how the night did, after all, go by, and a very gray dawn bring the welcome step or limp of the station agent, only Tavia—­poor unfortunate Tavia—­could ever know!

And it was the next day—­daylight at last!

To-day she must get back to camp if she had to walk!

Oh, she must get back!  Surely something would happen to assist her!