s she came out of the station and
approached them. "It's due in four minutes. Listen! Didn't you hear it
whistle?"

A minute later it was visible around the bend and bearing down on the
station with a great puffing and whistling.

"I see her," announced Emma. "She's getting off at the upper end of the
train."

An alert little figure in a gray coat suit came swinging down the
platform, a suit case in each hand, her keen, dark eyes scanning every
face. Suddenly she caught sight of her friends. Dropping her luggage she
ran forward, both hands extended. Grace caught them in hers. The two
embraced, then Grace passed Kathleen on to Patience.

"And to think that Emma Dean is to be one of us!" exclaimed Kathleen.
"Emma, the one sure and certain cure for the blues. I didn't half
appreciate you last year." A swift flush rose to her cheeks. "I didn't
appreciate any one. I missed knowing Overton's best, but I'm so thankful
that part of that best has come back again, so that I can really show
how much I care," she finished, her eyes very bright.

The little company lingered on the platform, for there was so much to be
said that they were loath to move on. So absorbed were they in their own
affairs they did not observe that a tall, raw-boned, roughly dressed
man, with a gaunt, disagreeable face had been stealthily edging nearer
the group until within a few feet of them. All at once a long bony hand
was thrust into their midst. The hand landed on the shoulder of Mary
Reynolds, swinging her almost off her feet. She did not scream, but her
face grew white and her eyes horror-stricken. Then she wrenched
desperately to free herself from the cruel clutch, gasping,
"Let--me--alone. I--won't--go back--with--you."

"Oh, ye won't, won't ye," growled the hateful intruder. "We'll see if ye
won't. Get a move on." He half dragged, half shoved the now sobbing Mary
along the platform.

For an instant no one of the astonished girls moved or protested. Then a
small, lithe figure flung itself in front of the brutal fellow, barring
his progress. "Take your hands off that girl," commanded a tense,
authoritative voice.

As if in recognition of its authority the man's cruel hold on Mary's
slender shoulder relaxed. Kathleen West's black eyes were blazing. With
a swift forward movement she threw her arm protectingly across Mary's
shoulder and drew her close. "Now," she said, her whole body tense with
suppressed anger, "touch her if you dare."

"Y