“Perhaps we shall see him in the train,” said Meg.
“I dare say we shall,” said Robin. “It was nobody who knows us. I didn’t know his voice. Meg, let’s take hands again, and walk quickly; we might lose the train.”
They did not talk much more, but walked briskly. They had done a good day’s work before they set out, and were rather tired, but they did not lag on that account. Sometimes Meg took a turn at carrying the satchel, so that Robin might rest his arm. It was not heavy, and she was as strong for a girl as he was for a boy.
At last they reached the dépôt. There were a number of people waiting on the platform to catch the train to Chicago, and there were several vehicles outside. They passed one which was a buggy, and Meg gave Robin a nudge with her elbow.
“Perhaps that belongs to our man,” she said.
There were people enough before the office to give the ticket-agent plenty to do. Robin’s heart quickened a little as he passed by with the group of maturer people, but no one seemed to observe him particularly, and he returned to Meg with the precious bits of pasteboard held very tight in his hand.
Meg had waited alone in an unlighted corner, and when she saw him coming she came forward to meet him.
“Have you got them?” she said. “Did any one look at you or say anything?”
“Yes, I got them,” Robin answered. “And, I’ll tell you what, Meg, these people are nearly all going just where we are going, and they are so busy thinking about it, and attending to themselves, that they haven’t any time to watch any one else. That’s one good thing.”
“And the nearer we get to Chicago,” Meg said, “the more people there will be, and the more they will have to think of. And at that beautiful place, where there is so much to see, who will look at two children? I don’t believe we shall have any trouble at all.”