“Oh, Dorothy, I am sure we will all be killed!”
“Doro, are you all right?”
This last was from Tavia, while the other gasps came from various girls, too intermixed to separate.
It seemed a long time, but was, in reality, only a few seconds, until the conductor and porter made their way to the girls’ car, and assured them that nothing at all had happened, more than the rather too sudden stopping of the train, made necessary by a special and unexpected signal. The lights were again turned on, and everyone might see that there really had been no accident. The seats were as straight and as smooth as ever, and most of the frightened passengers were gathering up their trinkets from the floor, and replacing them in the holders and seats.
Edna Black was rubbing her arm, and wincing.
“Is your hand hurt?” Dorothy asked.
“I’m afraid it is. I got quite a jolt against the seat arm. But I guess it isn’t much,” Edna replied.
Tavia gazed across the aisle. The young man was looking at Edna. The new girl was groaning dramatically. She was also trying to get back into her skirt, that had, in the excitement sprung up like a deep girdle around her waist.
“Can’t flop nicely in a skirt tight as that!” Tavia whispered to Molly Richards. “I wish it had all ripped to pieces. Wouldn’t it be sport for her to have to get out in a buttoned raincoat?”
“She’s pretty,” Mollie said, simply.