They let the boy lean out of the open window as the train ran in and slowed up beside the platform. Porteus Carmagee and his sister were waiting by the door of the booking-office. Jack sighted them and waved a salute, their coach running far beyond the office, for they were in the forepart of the train.
Murchison was the first out of the carriage. He lifted the boy down, and stood waiting to help his wife with some of her parcels.
“Luggage, sir?”
Murchison turned, and stared straight into the face of one of his old patients. The man looked at him blankly for a moment before recognition dawned upon his face.
“Good-day, doctor. Didn’t know you, sir, at first,” and he touched his cap.
Murchison’s upper lip was stiff. He looked like one who had come to judge rather than to be judged.
“Get my luggage out, Johnson. Three trunks, a Gladstone, hat-box, and two wooden cases.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man was polite, though ready to be inquisitive.
“Glad to see you again in Roxton, sir.”