“Why,” she mused, “there is the new station, and a train stopping! What an innovation for Glenwood! I must go over and see what the station looks like.”
A narrow path led through the elders and birches. Bluejays were out-doing one another with their screeching, while birds that could sing kept a scornful silence. Everything was so heavy with nature. Dorothy almost forgot that it was to-day she had promised to tell Tavia of her troubles!
Passing through the lane brought her out into an open roadway, newly made. A pretty little stone station, the rural and artistic kind, filled in the space beyond, and a high terrace, unfinished, showed that Glenwood station was to be carefully kept.
The train that Dorothy had heard whistling was just coming in. The new station was not yet opened, but a short distance from it was an improvised lunch room, a sort of shack made of unpainted boards, and thin awnings. The train stopped, and the conductor hurried to the little lunch room. Dorothy saw that a girl, alone, stood behind the queer, long, board table, and that beside her was a telegraph instrument. Seeing Dorothy she called to her.
“Could you come here for a few minutes?” she asked. “I have an important train message and no one to leave the shop to.”
“Of course,” replied Dorothy, not comprehending just what was wanted, but hurrying across the tracks to the shanty.
“You see,” began the girl, “father is sick, but we have to keep our contract with the road, or lose the privilege in the new station. We have to have a lunch room, and a newspaper stand and also attend to messages. This I just received. I will have to deliver it on my bicycle. I am so glad you came along. No one is apt to be out so early. If any one wants coffee could you serve it?”
Dorothy was taken by surprise. To be left in charge of a country railroad lunch counter!
“I’ll do the best I can,” she answered, noticing that the black-haired girl had a deep line across her brow. “But I’m afraid——”
“Oh, don’t be afraid of anything,” interrupted the girl, who was already mounting her wheel, and handing a bunch of keys to Dorothy. “There’s another train due soon, but I’ll try to be back. In the shed, at the rear, is our dog. He will know you all right when he sees you behind the counter, but he won’t let any one else in. Good-bye for a few minutes, and I can’t tell you how glad I am you came along. I just feel that you have saved the depot for us,” and with one strong stroke her wheel glided down the hill, and a bit of yellow paper, the train message, showed in the small pocket of her red jacket. The first train had already pulled out.