Hortense was all alone, and there was nobody resembling her grandfather, or her grandfather's old coachman, to meet her. She felt very lonesome until a man with a bright metal plate on his cap, which read Station Agent, came to her and asked her name and where she belonged.
"So you're Mr. Douglas' granddaughter," said he, "and are going to the big house to live. Well, well! I guess Uncle Jonah will be along pretty soon."
Hortense went with him and looked up the long street of the little town. The station agent shaded his eyes with his hand.
"I guess that's Uncle Jonah now," said he, and Hortense saw an old-fashioned surrey with a fringed top drawn by two very fat black horses. They were very lazy horses, and it seemed a long time before they drew up at the station and Uncle Jonah climbed painfully out.
Uncle Jonah was very old and black, and his hair was white and kinky.
"Yo's Miss Hortense, isn't yo'?" he asked. "I come fo' to git yo'. I'se kinda' late 'cause Tom an' Jerry, dey jes' sa'ntered along."
The station agent and Uncle Jonah lifted Hortense's steamer trunk into the back seat of the surrey, and with Hortense sitting beside Uncle Jonah, off they went.
"She'd better look out for ghosts up at the big house, hadn't she, Uncle Jonah?" the station agent called after them.
Uncle Jonah grunted.
"Are there ghosts at Grandfather's house?" Hortense asked, feeling a delightful shiver up her back.