"We are almost at the switch," said Samantha. "Ought not somebody go into the smoking-car and inform the gentleman of it?"
"Why, certainly not. It's likely he knows of it. He was told of it, and it's likely some one will inform him. You had better look after your boxes and bundles. Be sure to pick up the bag of candy, the ginger-snaps, the bunch of bachelor buttons, the rosemary, my shawl, and your new pair of shoes."
"If I have to hold this baby and pick up my dress, it will be as much as I can do. But I'm quite sure the gentleman will come and take care of the baby himself," added Samantha, wistfully.
The conductor called out the station. It was the busiest junction in the northern part of Virginia. Two trains met and passed each other here, while still another was side-tracked, waiting for the right of way. There was always a rush of people at the station, and consequently confusion and noise. Widow Jones and Samantha stepped from the car to the platform.
"We ought to have waited," declared the girl. "See, we have missed him, as I told you we would. I had better run back and see if he's there. He's probably going on to New York. But he will be sure to see us, no matter what car he is in."
A moment more, and the two trains moved on. Even Widow Jones was now thoroughly alarmed. What her daughter had feared had taken place. The young man had certainly missed them.
"Overcome with fatigue, he probably fell asleep in the smoking-car, in spite of himself," said Samantha.
"Well, anyhow he knows your name and address, mother. He will be sure to telegraph back to us at Larchmont."
Still, Widow Jones, who held the baby close in her arms, looked troubled.