nis will come soon?" she finally found
voice to ask.

"Of course, ma'am. You yoost sit qviet. If Hugo he expect a leddy he
turn up all right, sure. It's tvelve mile ofer to his place, ma'am,
and he ain't got but one dog."

She could not quite understand what the latter fact signified. What
mattered it how many dogs he had? She was going to ask for further
explanation when the door opened and the young woman who had peeped at
her came in. She was heavily garbed in wool and fur. As she cast a
glance at Madge she bit her lips. For the briefest instant she
hesitated. No, she would not speak, for fear of betraying herself, and
she went to the window of the little ticket-office.

"Anything for us, Joe?" she asked.

"No. There's no express stuff been left," he answered. "Your stuff'll
be along by freight, I reckon. Wait a moment and I'll give you the
mail-bag."

"You can bring it over. It--it doesn't matter about the goods."

She turned about, hastily, and nodded to big Stefan. Then she peered
at Madge again, with a sidelong look, and left the waiting-room.

As so often happens she had imagined this woman who was coming as
something entirely different from the reality. She had evolved vague
ideas of some sort of adventuress, such as she had read of in a few
cheap novels that had found their way to Carcajou. In spite of the
mild and timid tone of the letters she had prepared to see some sort
of termagant, or at least a woman enterprising, perhaps bold, one who
would make it terribly hot for the man she would believe had deceived
her and brought her on a fool's errand. This little thin-faced girl
who looked with big, frightened eyes was something utterly unexpected,
she knew not why.

"And--and she ain't at all bad-looking," she acknowledged to herself,
uneasily. "She don't look like she'd say 'Boo' to a goose, either. But
then maybe she's deceiving in her looks. A woman who'd come like that
to marry a man she don't know can't amount to much. Like enough she's
a little hypocrite, with her appearance that butter wouldn't melt in
her mouth. And my! The clothes she's got on! I wonder if she didn't
look at me kinder suspicious. Seemed as if she was taking me in, from
head to foot."

In this Miss Sophy was probably mistaken. Madge had looked at her
because the garb of brightly-edged blanketing, the fur cap and mitts,
the heavy long moccasins, all made a picture that was unfamiliar.
There was perhaps some envy in the look,