ces
cast upon the space she occupied. These thoughts came to her
mechanically. When a decision has finally been made, and for the present
nothing more can be done, the mind goes wandering off on trivial
errands; the flight of a bird, the passage of the fairy car of
thistle-down, are sufficient to set it in motion. It seemed to her that
she had been there a long time, when a step came through the grove:
Hosea Plympton--or, as he was called in the neighborhood, Hosy Plim--was
unlocking the station door. Anne bought her ticket, and had her trunk
checked; she hoped to reach the half-house before midnight.

Hosy having attended to his official business with dignity, now came out
to converse unofficially with his one passenger. "From Caryl's, ain't
you?"

"Yes," replied Anne.

"Goin' to New York?"

"Yes."

"I haven't yet ben to that me-tropo-lis," said Hosy. "On some accounts I
should admire to go, on others not. Ben long at Caryl's?"

"Yes, some time."

"My wife's cousin helps over there; Mirandy's her name. And she tells
me, Mirandy does, that the heap of washing over to that house is a sight
to see. She tells me, Mirandy does, that they don't especial dress up
for the Sabbath over there, not so much even as on other days."

"That is true, I believe."

"Sing'lar," said the little man, "what folks 'll do as has the money!
They don't seem to be capable of enj'ying themselves exactly; and
p'r'aps that's what Providence intends. We haven't had city folks at
Caryl's until lately, miss, you see; and I confess they've ben a
continooal study to me ever since. 'Tis amazin' the ways the Lord'll
take to make us contented with our lot. Till I _see_ 'em, I thought 'em
most downright and all everlastin' to be envied. But _now_ I feel the
ba'm of comfort and innard strengthenin' when I see how little they know
_how_ to enj'y themselves, after all. Here's the train, miss."

In another moment Anne felt herself borne away--away from the solitary
station, with its shining lines of rails; from the green hills which
encircled Caryl's; from the mountain-peaks beyond. She had started on
her journey into the wide world.

In darkness, but in safety, she arrived at the half-house, in the
station-keeper's wagon, a few minutes before midnight. A light was still
burning, and in response to her knock Jeanne-Armande herself opened the
door, clad in a wrapper, with a wonderful flannel cap on her head. She
was much astonished to see her pupi