"Madge, suppose Mrs. Wishart should not be here to meet us? You must think what you would do."
"Why, the train don't go any further, does it?"
"No!—but it goes back. I mean, it will not stand still for you. It moves away out of the station-house as soon as it is empty."
"There will be carriages waiting, I suppose. But I am sure I hope she will meet us. I wrote in plenty of time. Don't worry, dear! we'll manage."
"I am not worrying," said Lois. "I am a great deal too happy to worry."
However, that was not Madge's case, and she felt very fidgety. With Lois so feeble, and in a place so unknown to her, and with baggage checks to dispose of, and so little time to do anything, and no doubt a crowd of doubtful characters lounging about, as she had always heard they did in New York; Madge did wish very anxiously for a pilot and a protector. As the train slowly moved into the Grand Central, she eagerly looked to see some friend appear. But none appeared.
"We must go out, Madge," said Lois. "Maybe we shall find Mrs.
Wishart—I dare say we shall—she could not come into the cars—"
The two made their way accordingly, slowly, at the end of the procession filing out of the car, till Madge got out upon the platform. There she uttered an exclamation of joy.
"O Lois!—there's Mr. Dillwyn?"
"But we are looking for Mrs. Wishart," said Lois.