A brakeman passed down the aisle and commenced to light the lamps, and Randy peeping from the window saw that the stars were shining. She knew that at home old Snowfoot and the cows were under the shelter of the great barn, and that father and mother and dear little Prue were seated around the table. Tears filled her eyes and she quickly drew the curtain and began to look about the brightly lighted car with the hope of seeing something which should hold her attention and thus help to dispel the wave of homesickness which swept over her.
An old lady with a kindly face turned just in time to see Randy’s handkerchief at her eyes, and she hastened to speak a word of comfort.
“Traveling alone, dear?” she asked so gently that Randy forgot to be surprised, and she bowed her head in assent in place of the word which, for the moment she could not speak.
“I thought so,” said the old lady, “but don’t cry, your friends will probably be at the depot in Boston when you arrive, will they not?”
“Oh, yes,” said Randy, “but it isn’t that. I was thinking of those I’d left at home,” and away went the little handkerchief again to her eyes.
“Ah, that is it,” said the sweet old voice. “Well, the homesickness will wear off after a time, and now in regard to to-night, your friends will doubtless be waiting when this train gets in, but if by chance they are not, you shall come to my home with me until we can get word to their address that you are in Boston.”
“Oh, how good you are,” said Randy.
“I am only doing what I would have some one do for my daughter in a like position,” was the reply, and looking up, Randy saw a beautiful light in the kind eyes which looked into hers, and without a word she laid her hand in that of her new friend.
“Boston! Boston!” shouted the brakeman, and with a start Randy found herself suddenly upon her feet, and with the other passengers making her way toward the door.
The great train-house, the crowd, the trucks loaded with trunks and bags, the lights, the noise and bustle so confused Randy that she failed to see the face for which she was eagerly looking.
“Do you see your friends?” asked the gentle voice, but as she stepped upon the platform she was rejoiced to hear her name called by the voice which she so well knew.
“O Randy dear, you did come didn’t you?” and for a moment Helen Dayton held her young friend closely; then she noticed the old lady who stood smiling at what was so evidently a happy meeting.
Hastening toward her, Helen extended her hand as she said,
“I am so glad to see you, Mrs. Seymour, are you acquainted with this dear friend of mine? I thought you were conversing when you stepped upon the platform.”
“We have had no introduction,” said the old lady, smiling, “but we became acquainted on the car just before we reached Boston.”