The young man came rushing back into the car, and he overheard.
“K stands for Keefe,” he declared, “and O’C for O’Connor. That’s myself, such as I am. The engine has broken down—”
“Just as I thought,” murmured Carin.
“And we’re likely to be tied up here for hours.”
“It is a single track, I think,” said Miss Zillah with forced calm. “Are we not in danger of a collision? Would you advise me, sir, to take the young ladies out into the open air?”
“Why not?” asked Keefe O’Connor, packing articles back in the racks and generally settling the car. “We may as well break up the time a little.” He happened to look at Constance and caught a look of dismay on the face that until now had been so cheerful.
“Well, Miss Rowantree, what is it?” he asked.
“If we stay here for hours,” said the wise little girl, “it will be jet dark when I get to my place.” Her lips quivered a little.
“Come dark, come light,” said the young man, “you’ll be all right, Constance Rowantree. Just you trust to me. Anyway, worry never yet mended anything.”
But plenty of worrying was done on that train first and last that afternoon. The engineer worried and the conductor worried, the brake-men had their own troubles, and the passengers fretted as hard as they could. Carin and Azalea walked up and down the track with Miss Zillah and Constance, and tried to think they liked the adventure.