Five minutes of really hustling work, then the packages were all off the train, the whistle sounded, and the cars moved off towards Roseneath, just as the baggage clerk came running back to see what was amiss.
Nell explained the situation to him, putting the freight in his care for loading on to the next Camp’s Gulch cars, then returned to the office, very warm and rather untidy from that spirited wrestling with rice bags and boxes marked “fragile.”
“Oh, how could you do such a thing?” cried Miss Simpson, holding up her hands in horror.
“There was no one else to help, and it didn’t hurt me, only I’m rather dusty,” Nell said, with a rueful look at her brown coat.
“The cars might have waited until to-morrow morning before I would have soiled my fingers by helping to take off freight. Such a fearfully unladylike thing to do,” rejoined Miss Simpson, severely, pursing her thin lips, and looking very prim and proper.
“Was it unladylike?” asked Nell, opening her eyes very widely. “I’m very sorry; but, if the same thing happened again, I expect I should do just the same.”
“I expect you would. Some people are made so,” rejoined Miss Simpson, slightingly. Then, with a change of tone, she said briskly, “As you are here and settled in so comfortably, there is no reason why I shouldn’t go off duty at once. I shall have time to dress myself nicely before the cars come in.”
Nell looked a little blank. She had expected to have Miss Simpson’s help all the evening, especially as her own actual coming on duty was not supposed to begin until the next morning. However, it was of no use to protest, as the young lady had so plainly made up her mind to do no more work at Bratley.
The evening was a busy one. So many calls from the instrument, some of which had to be answered, others merely going through to other places. Nell’s breakfast, and the luncheon she had taken on the cars, had become dim memories, and she was feeling tired and faint when, about six o’clock, Mrs. Nichols came puffing and wheezing into the office, laden with a basket and a small tin can.
“Feelin’ half starved, ain’t you? If not, you ought to by this time. A burning shame, I call it, to leave you here in charge, while she is curling and frizzing her front hair, and you with no chance to feed comfortably all day, while your duty properly doesn’t begin until to-morrow morning. But I’ve brought you a drop of tea and a doughnut, so that you shan’t starve outright before supper.”