"Not until to-morrow."
Mrs. Ffolliott indulged in some remarks on the ways of young people at the present time, to which no reply was made.
So it happened that when the eleven-forty train steamed up to the little station, there were on the platform but two people, the agent and a small boy in a suit so close and abbreviated as to be almost no suit at all.
This boy was standing by his own wheel, and another bicycle leaned against the wall of the building.
Leander was scowling along the steps of every car, and saying to himself:
"I'll bet she hasn't come. Women never do anything right. I wanted to race her home."
Three men and a small girl had alighted. It was no use looking any more. There, the train was moving.
"Oh, thunder!" said the boy.
He was turning away, when something touched his shoulder, and somebody asked:
"Leander, why are you saying 'thunder?'"