It was now five o’clock and the first down train was due at six. All day long forces of men had been busy clearing the streets so that the main ones were passable, and promptly at six Reuben reined up at the station. Mr. De Vere sprang out of the sleigh, tramping impatiently back and forth. Six-twenty and still no train. What could be the matter? Mr. De Vere’s nervous strain was beginning to tell, and although accosted by several of his acquaintances, he did not heed; his mind was intent on one thing. The perspiration stood in drops on his forehead and every few seconds he took off his hat to wipe a bald spot on the top of his head. Suddenly stopping, he called:
“Reuben, have you seen Mr. Genung to-day?”
“Yes, Massa, hyah he comes now,” pointing up the street.
De Vere rushed madly down the steps to meet Genung and grasping the latter’s hand, whispered:
“I’m expecting Hernando on the six o’clock train; and cured! Now, for God’s sake don’t make a fool of yourself!”
“And I’m here for the same thing you are; but one fool is enough to amuse this gaping crowd!” Genung gasped with staring eyes.
At last the welcome whistle sounded and before the train came to a standstill these two dignified men scrambled up the steps, heedless of the brakeman’s warning “Wait till the train stops.”
But a pair of intensely blue eyes had seen it all from the platform and their owner gave a joyful exclamation as he sprang down to meet them, shouting,—“Uncle! Mr. De Vere!” and his arms were around both their necks.
Dr. Herschel, fearing a scene, hastily introduced Drs. Hinckle and Le Corr and hustled the three into a sleigh. He then signalled a cab and motioned Reuben to proceed. “Dear me, these emotional Americans!” he said, seating himself with the other physicians in the cab.
“A noble fellow,” remarked Dr. Hinckle.