“Wildbrier!” shouted the conductor at the door, and Mrs. Dobbs hurried from the car.
The morning’s detention, causing more than one failure in making connections, brought several vexatious delays—long hours of tedious waiting in depots in the loneliness of a crowd, and with few appliances for comfort.
But Floy felt no temptation to fret or murmur; all this was so infinitesimal a price to pay for what she had gained.
When the train reached Chicago it was five o’clock in the morning, and still dark.
No one to meet Floy, and she so utterly strange to the city that she knew not which way to turn to find the street and number given her as the address of Mrs. Sharp, whose apprentice she was to be.
No express agent had come on the train to attend to the delivery of baggage; not a hack nor an omnibus was in waiting.
She was looking this way and that in search of one, when a young man of rough exterior but kindly, honest face, as she could see by the light of a lamp near by, stepped up with the question:
“Any baggage, miss?”
“Yes; can you tell me where to find an omnibus or hack?”