During the morning hours, the girls went about their tasks with happy hearts and when one would pass another, she would joyfully exclaim, “Gertrude’s coming to-day!”
At last one-thirty arrived and also Patrick and the school bus, into which the eight girls from Apple-Blossom Alley climbed, then, down the elm-arched drive the two spirited white horses trotted at a brisk pace.
It was five minutes to two when the bus drew up at the station, but no one was in sight. Fifteen minutes passed, and the train did not appear.
“It must be late,” Adele said. “I’m going to hunt for the station-master and inquire.” She found him asleep in the warm waiting-room.
“Mr. Station-Master,” Adele said clearly, “will you kindly tell me why the two o’clock train is late?”
The grey-bearded man sat up with a start. “Wall, is that so?” he exclaimed. “Sure enough, it must be late, but that’s nothin’ unusual. It’s a short line and the train sort of comes and goes to suit itself. Nothin’ could happen to it unless it ran off the track. It couldn’t bump into anything, for it’s the only train between here and Buffalo.”
Just then the telephone rang and the old station-master limped to get the message. “Wall, now, you don’t say!” he exclaimed in surprise to the person at the other end of the line. “That there train has done queer things in its time, but this sure is the queerest.”
“It isn’t wrecked, is it?” Adele asked anxiously.
“Nope, not exactly, so to speak,” the old man replied, “but the switch didn’t work right about half a mile from here, and the train went off on a siding and there she’s stuck.”
“Oh, poor Gertrude, all alone off on a siding,” Adele exclaimed, then she added, “But, Patrick, if it’s only half a mile from here, can’t we go over and get her?”