e D. R. & G. Railway you will
find that the station of Chargrove is marked with a character dagger
([Picture: Character dagger]), meaning that trains stop there only to
let off passengers or, when properly signaled, to let them on. Mary
Louise, during the journey, had noted this fact with misgivings that
were by no means relieved when she stepped from the sumptuous train and
found before her merely a shed-like structure, open on all sides, that
served as station-house.

Colonel Hathaway and his granddaughter stood silently upon the platform
of this shed, their luggage beside them, and watched their trunks
tumbled out of the baggage car ahead and the train start, gather speed,
and go rumbling on its way. Then the girl looked around her to discover
that the primitive station was really the only barren spot in the
landscape.

For this was no Western prairie country, but one of the oldest settled
and most prosperous sections of a great state that had been one of the
original thirteen to be represented by a star on our national banner.
Chargrove might not be much of a railway station, as it was only eleven
miles from a big city, but the country around it was exceedingly
beautiful. Great oaks and maples stood here and there, some in groups
and some in stately solitude; the land was well fenced and carefully
cultivated; roads--smooth or rutty--led in every direction; flocks and
herds were abundant; half hidden by hills or splendid groves peeped the
roofs of comfortable farmhouses that evidenced the general prosperity
of the community.

"Uncle Eben is late, isn't he, Gran'pa Jim?" asked the girl, as her
eyes wandered over the pretty, peaceful scene.

Colonel Hathaway consulted his watch.

"Our train was exactly on time," he remarked, "which is more than can
be said for old Eben. But I think, Mary Louise, I now see an automobile
coming along the road. If I am right, we have not long to wait."

He proved to be right, for presently a small touring car came bumping
across the tracks and halted at the end of the platform on which they
stood. It was driven by an old colored man whose hair was snow white
but who sprang from his seat with the agility of a boy when Mary Louise
rushed forward with words of greeting.

"My, Uncle Ebe, but it's good to see you again!" she exclaimed, taking
both his dusky hands in her own and shaking them cordially. "How is
Aunt Polly, and how is your 'rheum'tics'?"

"Rheum'tics done gone foh good,