So she set forth along the path at a swift, steady gait which promised fair for the accomplishment of her design. As she walked along the stars seemed brighter and seemed to wink at her more kindly, as if willing to do all they could to help along a poor little homesick, mother-lonely child. Though without hat or coat, her swift pace kept her warm enough for a time, but at last poor little Dolly grew very weary. She had not walked much since her illness and her newly mended leg felt the strain and began to ache terribly. She sat down to rest on a flat stone and was surprised to find that her leg ached worse sitting down than it had walking. Moreover, when she stopped exercising, she became very chilly and in addition to this she realised afresh that she was exceedingly hungry.
Poor little Dolly! She could scarcely have been more physically miserable, and yet her material discomfort was as nothing to her pangs of homesickness. She felt she could not pursue her journey, and yet it made her shudder to think of returning to that awful camp.
So after a time, hoping she had rested enough, she rose and plodded on again. She kept up this means of procedure, walking until utterly exhausted and then stopping to rest, until somehow she managed to cover the distance to the station.
It was half-past four when she reached the forlorn little building and found it closed and deserted. But there was a bench outside and Dolly sank upon this in a state bordering upon utter collapse. She fell asleep there and was only awakened when, shortly before six, the station agent came to unlock his office.
"Bless my soul! who are you?" he exclaimed, and Dolly sat up blinking in the early sunlight.
"I'm a passenger," she said; "I want to take the early train."
"Humph! a pretty looking passenger you are! Where's your hat?"
"I don't always wear a hat in summer," and Dolly tossed back her golden curls and looked at the man steadily. Her sleep had refreshed her somewhat, and she had recovered her poise. Her determination was still unshaken and she had every intention of going on that six o'clock train.
But the station master was a knowing sort of man and he had before this seen campers afflicted with a desperate desire to go back to civilisation.
"Didn't you come up here last night with the Roses?" he inquired affably.