You may be sure that Molly’s reply was prompt and forgiving.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHRISTMAS—MID-YEARS—AND THE WANDERTHIRST.
There are few lonelier and more dismal experiences in life than Christmas away from home for the first time. Molly felt her heart sink as the great day approached. One morning a trainload of chattering, laughing girls pulled out of the Wellington station. Judy hanging recklessly to the last step, waved her handkerchief until Molly’s figure grew indistinct in the distance, and Nance on the crowded platform called out again and again, “Good-bye, Molly, dear. Good-bye!”
Molly almost regretted that she had ever left Kentucky, as the Christmas train became a point of black on the horizon.
“I might have ended my days as a teacher in a country school-house and been happier than this,” she thought desperately, starting back to college.
Some one came running up behind her. It was Mary Stewart who had been down to see some classmates off. She was to take the night train to New York.
“When do you get off?” she asked, slipping her arm through Molly’s like the good comrade she was. “I’m surprised you didn’t leave yesterday, with such a long journey before you.”
“I’m not going home this Christmas,” replied Molly.