the
emotion of their companion.

When the train had fairly started, Gladys, who had seated herself
beside Maria, while Wollaston was in the seat behind them, heaved a
deep sigh of bewilderment and terror. "My!" said she.

Wollaston also looked pale and bewildered. He was only a boy, and had
never been thrown much upon his own responsibility. All that had been
uppermost in his mind was the consideration that Maria could not be
stopped, and she must not go alone to New York. But he did not know
what to think of it all. He felt chaotic. The first thing which
seemed to precipitate his mentality into anything like clearness was
the entrance of the conductor. Then he thought instinctively about
money. Although still a boy, money as a prime factor was already
firmly established in his mind. He reflected with dismay that he had
only his Wardway tickets, and about three dollars beside. It was now
dark. The vaguest visions of what they were to do in New York were in
his head. The fare to New York was a little over a dollar; he had
only enough to take them all in, then what next? He took out his
pocket-book, but Gladys looked around quickly.

"She's got a whole book of tickets," she said.

However, Wollaston, who was proud, started to pay the conductor, but
he had reached Maria first, and she had said "Three," peremptorily.
Then she handed the book to Wollaston, with the grim little ghost of
a smile. "You please keep this," said she. "I haven't got any pocket."

Wollaston was so bewildered that the possession of pockets seemed
instantly to restore his self-respect. He felt decidedly more at his
ease when he had Maria's ticket-book in his innermost pocket. Then
she gave him her purse also.

"I wish you would please take this," said she. "There are ten dollars
in it, and I haven't any pocket." Wollaston took that.

"All right," he said. He buttoned his gray vest securely over Maria's
pretty little red purse. Then he leaned over the seat, and began to
speak, but he absolutely did not know what to say. He made an idiotic
remark about the darkness. "Queer how quick it grows dark, when it
begins," said he.

Maria ignored it, but Gladys said: "Yes, it is awful queer."

Gladys's eyes looked wild. The pupils were dilated. She had been to
New York but once before in her life, and now to be going in the
evening to find Maria's little sister was almost too much for her
intelligence, which had its limitations.

However, after a wh