Brill, who at the station door
bade her farewell in his capacity of host and two minutes later as
telegraph operator sent her message to Uncle Dick in Washington.
The 7:45 was on time to the minute, and as the long train pulled in
and the porter helped her on, Betty drew a long breath of relief.
Surely there could be no more delays and in a comparatively few hours
she might hope to be with her uncle and know the comfort of telling
him her experiences instead of trusting their recital to letters.
The train had been made up late the night before and many of the
passengers were still sleepy-eyed after restless hours in their
berths. A good many of them were at breakfast in the dining car, and
as there was no parlor car Betty had to take half a section already
occupied by a rather frowsy young woman with two small children.
"We take on a parlor car at Willowvale," the porter assured Betty,
only too sympathetically, for he had been waiting on the woman and
her children since the afternoon before. "I'll see that you get a
chair then, Miss."
Betty settled herself as comfortably as she could and opened her
magazine.
"Read to me?" suggested a little voice, and a sticky hand caressed
her skirt timidly.
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