Raven did not answer, or even turn his head. He went into the harness room, found the old saddle hanging in its place, led out Nellie, surprised at being expected to leave her oats, saddled her and rode away. He was angry, with Nan, with all the childish trouble of the business, and—as two neighbors agreed, seeing him gallop past—rode like the devil, yet not coming upon Nan and Jerry until they were at the station platform. Nan saw him first. She was gloriously glad, waving her hand and laughing out. Jerry stood with mouth open, silent but incurious, and Raven dismounted and threw him the reins.
"Hitch her behind," he said. "I'll go back with you. Got something extra to blanket her?"
He came up to Nan, and they took hands and went into the waiting room together. It was steaming hot from the monster stove and they retreated again to the platform.
"Come out and walk," said Raven, "up to Pine Grove. You've got an hour, you little simpleton. What did you run away for?"
The station is in a cluster of houses, awake early every morning when the milk goes away. But the road across the track leads up a little rise into Pine Grove, where church and sociables have picnics, the merrier for the neighborliness of the few trains. Raven and Nan climbed the rise almost at a run, and when they reached the shadowing pines, looked in at the pure spaces, remembering, for the first time, the snow would bar them out. They must keep to the road.
"Forty-eight minutes," said Raven. "We'll walk twenty and then cut back. Come on."
They walked a little, raced a little, talked—not much—and laughed a great deal. Raven was in the highest spirits, sure he was sending her off happy, since she would go. Never afterward could they remember what they talked about: only it seemed a fortunate moment stolen from the penury of years. Again he took out his watch.
"Time's up!" he said, and they went back.
The station was alive with its small activities. Jerry was walking Nellie up and down. The train came in and when Nan left him Raven remembered they had not said good-by. There was a kind of permanence in it; the moment had cemented something into bonds. When she had gone he and Jerry got into the pung and drove away leading Nellie, and then Raven remembered he had not breakfasted. They talked horse all the way home, and when Dick, appearing on the porch, called to them:
"What you got Nellie for?"