“Oh, I must go,” said Edna. “I am sure Agnes and Dorothy will be at the railway station, and we can all go out together.”
“But it is snowing so hard and the wind is making the snow drift,” continued Florence.
“Oh, but the cars go all the way to the station. I won’t have to walk, and very likely mother will send one of the boys, Cousin Ben, perhaps, to meet me.”
“I wish we had a telephone,” said Florence, “but we haven’t, and I suppose you can telephone from the station if you want to.”
“I might do that,” said Edna.
“I think you’d better go back to your Uncle Horner’s,” suggested Helen.
“Oh, but—” Edna did not want to do this. A whole week at the school without Celia was about all she thought she could stand. “I shall do all right,” she insisted. “I’m sure the girls will be at the station.” So the others saw her depart without urging her further.
Owing to the snow which was drifting heavily, the cars were running much more slowly than usual, and when Edna reached the station her train had just gone. It was the train her father always took and she had hoped to see him. She decided to telephone and took out her purse to see what money she had. Alas! she had but ten cents, not enough for an out-of-town toll. She had her school ticket fortunately. Celia was the one who always carried the money for the expenses, and Edna remembered that her mother had told her to be sure to provide herself with enough. “If you find you run short,” she told the child, “either send down to your father for some change or borrow it from Aunt Elizabeth.”
Edna would rather have done almost anything than borrow from Aunt Elizabeth and she had forgotten to look in her purse anyhow, before starting. “Even if I had,” she told herself, “I would have thought I had enough for I didn’t expect to need anything but car fare.” The next train would leave at five, but as it was a short run Edna thought she might venture to take it, even though it might be dark when she reached the station. She could telephone to the house from there, if necessary. So she waited patiently till it should be time for her train to be ready and then she went out and took her seat. It was snowing desperately hard she noticed as they moved along, and the train stopped frequently, but at last she reached her own station and got off feeling very thankful to be this near home. She looked around; not a soul was there to meet her. She would have to telephone. She turned toward the waiting-room, but to her consternation found the door locked.
There was not a soul in sight. She stood still for a while. It was getting colder, and the snow was drifting and swirling around at a great rate. What should she do? The station master had probably gone home to his supper, for there were no more trains till nearly six o’clock from either direction. He had not counted on his presence being needed between whiles once he had seen to his freight and baggage, and he had gone to the back of the building where he lived.