“Some one will come for her trunk,” she reflected. “If she took a morning train it will have to be expressed.”
She held to that thought in the long hours of exhaustion that followed. Some one would come for the trunk, and she must not be asleep.
The middle of the afternoon a wagon stopped before the house. Mrs. Bruce was off her bed, alertly.
The feet of the expressman sounded on the stairs. Mrs. Bruce met him in the upper hall. To her relief it was a stranger who appeared.
“A trunk to go from here?” he said.
“Yes.” She led the way. “Is it prepaid?” she asked as he laid hands upon it.
“No.”
“Sha’n’t I do it then? Where is it to go?” The speaker’s heart beat fast under the careless words.
“No, ma’am. No need. Cap’n Salter’s good.”