“Trying to butt in, I guess.”
The girl called Cora laughed shrilly.
“I guess I’m not going to like those girls,” sighed Nancy. And then she shivered as she thought of how mean they might be if they ever found out that she was “Miss Nobody from Nowhere.”
The rain began to slant across the open fields and trace a pattern upon the broad, thick, glass beside her so that she could no longer see out. Besides, it was growing dark early.
The train passed through towns that seemed all gloomy, smoky brick buildings, or shanties clinging like goats to the sides of high bluffs. A pall of dun vapor hung over these towns, and the lonely Nancy was glad when the train did not stop.
Sometimes they dashed into a tunnel, and a cloud of stifling smoke wrapped the cars about and the cinders rattled against the ventilators and roof.
On and on swept the train, and at last the brakeman, as they left one station, announced:
“Next stop Clintondale!”
Nancy began to gather her things together and put on her coat long before the train slowed down. Then the other girls got ready leisurely, still chatting.
The rain beat harder against the window. It was after seven o’clock. They passed a block-tower with its lights and semaphore. Then the grinding brakes warned her that her destination was at hand.