Behind her came a little girl about ten years old, as unlike her as possible, although it was Virginia Dudley’s ambition to be exactly like her Aunt Allison.  She wanted to be tall, and slender, and grown up; Miss Allison was that, and yet she had kept all her lively girlish ways, and a love of fun that made her charming to everybody, young and old.  Virginia longed for wavy brown hair and white hands, and especially for a graceful, easy manner.  Her hair was short and black, and her complexion like a gypsy’s.  She had hard, brown little fists, sharp gray eyes that seemed to see everything at once, and a tongue that was always getting her into trouble.  As for the ease of manner, that might come in time, but her stately old grandmother often sighed in secret over Virginia’s awkwardness.

She stumbled now as she followed the young lady into the waiting-room.  Her big, plume-covered hat tipped over one ear, but she, too, had so many bundles, that she could not spare a hand to straighten it.

“Well, Virginia, what do you suppose has become of the boys?” asked her aunt.  “They promised to meet us and carry our packages.”

“I heard them in here about half an hour ago, Miss Allison,” said the station-master, who had come in with a lantern.  “I s’pose they got tired of waiting.  Better leave your things here, hadn’t you?  I’ll watch them.  It is mighty slippery walking this evening.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Mason,” she answered, beginning to pile boxes and packages upon a bench, I’ll send Pete down for them immediately.  Now, Virginia, turn up your coat collar and hold your muff over your nose, or Jack Frost will make an icicle out of you before you are half-way home.

They had been in the house some time before the boys remembered their promise to meet them at the station.  When they saw how late it was, they started home on the run.

“I am fairly aching to tell Ginger about that bear,” panted Keith, as they reached the side door.  “I am so sorry that we promised the man not to say anything about them being on the place, before he sees us again to-morrow.  I wonder why he asked us that.”

“I don’t know,” answered Malcolm.  “He seemed to have some very good reason, and he talked about it so that it didn’t seem right not to promise a little thing like that.”

“I wish we hadn’t, though,” said Keith, again.

“But it’s done now,” persisted Malcolm.  “We’re bound not to tell, and you can’t get out of it, for he made us give him our word ’on the honour of a gentleman;’ and that settles it, you know.”

They were two very dirty boys who clattered up the back stairs, and raced to their room to dress for dinner.  Their clothes were covered with hayseed and straw, and their hands and faces were black with soot from the old cabin chimney.  They had both helped to build the fire.

The lamps had just been lighted in the upper hall, and Virginia came running out from her room when she heard the boys’ voices.