"Did you speak to me, my boy?" asked the stranger.
"No, sir," replied Herbert, blushing at being caught in his scrutiny. "I only remarked that you wore a college medal like my father's, which made me think that you might have been at the same college."
"Was your father at Dartmouth?" asked the stranger, whom we shall for the present call the scholar.
"Yes, sir," replied Herbert; "and I am going there when I am old enough."
He colored a little when he finished the sentence, as if he feared he had been too forward. The scholar, however, did not seem to think so. He turned over a seat, so as to place himself opposite to Herbert and Agatha, and began questioning Herbert about his studies, not as people sometimes speak to boys about such things, in a condescending or patronizing tone, but as if he felt a real interest in the matter. His face, which was rather sad when at rest, brightened up with a beautiful smile; and the more Agatha looked at him and listened to him, the more she felt as if she must have known him before.
"Tickets!" called out the conductor, who had been invisible for some time. It was with no small importance that Frank produced the tickets for the whole party from his pocket, saying, as he did so, "How soon shall we arrive at Riverton?"
"At Riverton!" repeated the conductor, as if surprised at the question. He looked at the tickets, and added, "You are on the wrong road, my boy! This is the New York train, and you have already come thirty miles out of your way!"
The boys looked at each other for a moment as if perfectly confounded; and then Edward exclaimed:
"There, Frank! So much for not asking any one!"
"Did not the station-master tell you which train to take?" asked the conductor.