This telegram for a time created no little excitement in the Stuart home.
Daylight was upon them by the time the train started from the scene of the wreck. Grace said she felt as though she had contracted a severe cold, for she was aching in every muscle of her body. Mollie declared that she was all right, but Bab averred that she knew she hadn't been in bed in a hundred years.
The dining car was opened early, for all the passengers felt the need of something more sustaining than fright. When the girls came back from the dining car they felt much better. Grace had suffered no serious injuries, but Bab's face was scratched from the particles of broken glass that had showered over her when the windows burst in.
A young man was occupying Barbara's seat when she entered the car they had occupied since the accident. He was leaning back against the high chair. His eyes were closed and a bandage was bound about his head.
"That's the man from number thirteen," whispered Barbara over her shoulder to Mollie. He glanced up, met Barbara's eyes and smiled.
"I am very glad to see that you weren't seriously hurt," said Bab.
The young man rose, supporting himself by the back of the chair.
"Are these your seats?" he asked.
"Yes, but please do not disturb yourself," urged Bab, taking a seat across the aisle. The young man leaned toward her.
"You are Miss Thurston, are you not?" he asked.