Blue Bonnet gathered up her belongings; ten minutes more and they would be in, the porter had told her.
Mr. Garner, her uncle’s friend, had brought her as far as New York; from there on she had travelled alone. Now that she was so near her journey’s end she almost wished she were not.
Aunt Lucinda was to meet her in Boston. Blue Bonnet gave her hair a smoothing touch or two and pulled on her gloves; then the porter came to brush her off, smiling sympathetically over her evident nervousness, and assuring her that Boston was “a right fine place.”
Very crowded, very confusing she thought it, during those first few moments. Inside the car, people were beginning to gather up bundles and wraps; outside, as the train drew into the great depot, pandemonium seemed the order of the day. Blue Bonnet felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to break away; to get somewhere—anywhere, where it was quiet.
And then she saw Aunt Lucinda coming towards her. She knew instinctively that it was Aunt Lucinda the moment she caught sight of the tall, well-dressed woman threading her way down the crowded aisle.
“This is Elizabeth?” she said, stopping before Blue Bonnet.
The girl answered nervously that she supposed so. “You see,” she added, quickly, flushing over the ridiculousness of her reply, “I’m not used to being called anything but Blue Bonnet.”
“Elizabeth, or Blue Bonnet, we are very glad you have come to us, my dear,” Miss Clyde answered, kissing her; “it must have seemed a long way.”
“Yes, Aunt Lucinda,” Blue Bonnet said. At that moment Texas seemed a very, very long way off, indeed. She followed her aunt down the aisle and out on to the busy platform, feeling curiously small and lonely.
During the short ride on the local train Blue Bonnet was very silent, but Miss Clyde thought her interested in the view from the car window and did not try to make conversation.