Fortunately, the services of none of the latter were needed, for it was found, that besides the little girl Shirley had rescued, none of the passengers had been severely injured.
Half an hour later a car approached from the other direction, and came to a stop a few yards from the scene of the wreck. Passengers disembarked and, upon the instructions of an official, the car made ready to return toward Cincinnati.
Shirley and Mabel climbed aboard with the other passengers and soon were on their way once more. They did not wait to find their hand baggage, nor did any of the other passengers. It was hopelessly lost in the wreckage. Their trunks, they knew, would reach Cincinnati, and eventually home, without trouble.
The wreck had delayed the car for nearly two hours; so when they finally reached Cincinnati, it was too late to catch their train to Paris.
Shirley and Mabel had been in the Ohio city too many times to feel frightened, however. So, after sending a telegram to Mr. Willing explaining their reasons for not being home on time, the two girls made their way from the station to the Sinton Hotel, where they spent the night.
They were up bright and early the next morning, and caught their train soon after eight o’clock. Shortly before eleven they reached Paris.
Shirley, the first to descend the steps, was caught in the arms of a dignified, white-haired old gentleman, who squeezed her until she cried out:
“Stop, Dad, or you will squeeze the life out of me.”
The old gentleman laughed and, putting a hand on both of her shoulders, held her off at arms’ length and looked at her intently.
“Well, well,” he said, “so I have you back again. How glad I am to see you, daughter. It seems as though you had been gone ten years.”