And something did occur.
In passing from one car to the other, Mr. Knight first assisted his sister across, then turned to his young charge, when a gust of wind whirled her pretty hat from her head, it being held in place only by a pin, and it would have been wafted beyond recovery but for Rupert, who was directly behind her, and who deftly caught it in its flight.
He instantly returned it to its fair owner, saying, with a bow and his frank smile:
“I am very glad that I was quick enough to save it.”
“I am glad, too,” returned the little lady, with a merry laugh. “Thank you. It would be very awkward to have to go on my way bare-headed.”
Rupert glanced at her as she restored the hat to its place with a look which plainly said that he thought it a very pretty head, even in that state.
Mr. Knight politely acknowledged his obligations for the service; but his sister, who was looking over his shoulder, regarded the two young men askance, as if she was not quite sure that the occurrence had not been all a plot, to which old Boreas had craftily lent his aid.
Then they all passed into the dining-room car, where there was one small table unoccupied, with space for four persons, with only one other vacancy at another, midway of the car.
Mr. Knight turned to Rupert, saying, cordially:
“Come and share our table—I see the others are nearly full—and let me introduce you to my sister and ward. What shall I call you, if you please?”