“For you know Miss Leslie is a very understanding person,” finished Dulcie, “and I’m sure she won’t blame us for running away from a stepmother, when we’ve had nothing but steps ever since we can remember.”
It was only a short walk down the hill to the station, but when they reached it, they found the waiting-room still locked up, and not a human being in sight.
“I knew it was too early for trains,” fretted Maud. “Now we’ll have to go home again.”
“No, we won’t,” declared Dulcie, with assumed cheerfulness. “We’ll just wait here till the first one comes along.”
So they all sat down on a bench to wait, and it was very still, with nothing but the twittering of the birds to disturb the morning silence.
For a few minutes nobody spoke, and then Maud inquired wonderingly:
“What makes it so solemn? It feels like church.”
“I guess it’s because we’re all feeling rather solemn ourselves,” Molly answered.
“Hush,” cried Dulcie, suddenly; “I hear a whistle, and it’s coming from the right direction, too.”
They all listened, with bated breath, and soon the whistle sounded again, much nearer this time, and then came the sound of an approaching train. It was an accommodation train, too, not one of the expresses, which frequently rushed by the little station without stopping, and as it pulled up to the platform, the four little girls rose from their seats. In another moment they had all stepped on board.