"And Cousin Becky's train is not due to arrive till ten minutes past seven, so there's plenty of time. Where is Roger?"
"Gone to put on his boots, father. Don't you think you had better put on yours?"
Mr. Trent laughed as he laid aside his newspaper. "I see you will not be satisfied till I am gone," he remarked. "Fetch my boots, there's a good girl."
Ten minutes later Mr. Trent and Roger were putting on their overcoats in the hall, preparatory to braving the snowstorm. The latter was quite as anxious to start for the station as Polly was to send him off. In fact, both children were much excited about their expected guest.
"You won't be able to wear this much longer," Polly observed, as she assisted her brother into his overcoat, which had become most uncomfortably tight for him. She buttoned it across his chest with some difficulty, adding, "You look like a trussed fowl."
"He has grown so much this winter," said Mrs. Trent, overhearing Polly's unflattering remark on her brother's appearance as she came downstairs. "I wish he could have a new overcoat, but—" She paused with a faint sigh, and Roger said quickly:
"Oh, this one will last me a long time yet, and I don't in the least mind how I look. It's a good warm old coat."
"That's right, Roger, never run down an old friend, especially one that's served you well," said Mr. Trent, at which they all laughed; for, poor though they were and obliged to practise many economies, they were a lighthearted family and happy amongst themselves.
"Surely you are very early in starting for the station," said Mrs. Trent. "There is half an hour before the train is due."
"Yes; but Polly is anxious to get us off," her husband returned, with a smiling glance at his little daughter, "and there's sure to be a good fire in the waiting-room at the station if we have long to wait. I shall not be surprised if the train is late to-night, the snowstorm will probably delay it a little."