The little boys found occupation because they observed that the white condensed vapour which came from their mouths with each breath bore great resemblance to the white steam a slowly moving engine was hissing forth.  They therefore strutted in imitation of the great machine, emitting large puffs from their little warm mouths, and making the sound which a groom makes when he plies the curry-comb.  The big brother was assisting in the unloading of a large carriage from an open van in the rear of the train, and Mrs. Rexford, neat, quick-moving, and excitable, after watching this operation for a few minutes and issuing several orders as to how it was to be done, moved off in lively search of the next train.  She ran about, a few steps in each direction, looking at the various railway lines, and then accosted a tall, thin man who was standing still, doing nothing.

“Is the train for the Eastern Townships here?  We were told it would be here waiting to receive us at daybreak.  Is it here?  Is it ready?”

Seeing from the man’s face, as she had already seen from the empty tracks, that no such train was in readiness, she ran at one of the puffing and strutting children whose muffler was loose, and tied it up again.  Then, struck by another thought, she returned to the impassive man whom she had before addressed.

“This is really the actual dawn, I suppose?” she asked, with an air of importance.  “I have read that in some countries there is what is called a ‘false dawn’ that comes before the real one, you know.”

Compelled now to speak, the man, who was a New Englander, took a small stick from between his teeth and said:  “As far as I know, marm, this morning is genuine.”

“Oh really”—­with abatement of interest in her tone—­“I thought perhaps there might be that sort of thing in Canada, you know—­we certainly read of Northern Lights.  Very strange that our train isn’t here!”

The Yankee took the trouble to reply again, hardly moving a muscle of his face.  “Keep a good heart, marm; it may come along yet, a-ridin’ on these same Northern Lights.”

“Riding on—?  I beg your pardon—­on what, did you say?” she asked eagerly.

At this the grey-eyed girl who had been frightened in the night plucked her by the sleeve and pulled her away.  “Don’t you see he’s making fun of you, mamma?”

Besides the grey-eyed girl, who wore short frocks, there were two other girls in the first bloom of young-womanhood.  One of these, having overheard the conversation, ran and told the other.

“Just because we happened to read of such a thing in that book of Asiatic travel!  Isn’t it absurd?  And there’s papa fuming at the other end of the station.”

Both girls giggled.

“I know quite well that people will think us all crazy,” urged the first speaker.  Then they laughed again, not unhappily.

“There’s not a doubt of it,” gasped the other.