very little comfort on board a small, deeply-loaded steamer when she
rolls her rails in, and lurches with thudding screw swung clear over
big, steep-sided combers. Moreover, Agatha had scarcely slept during the
few days and nights that she had spent in the train. It takes time to
become accustomed to the atmosphere of a heated sleeper, and since she
had landed she had been in a state of not unnatural nervous tension.

She had found it difficult to preserve an outward serenity, the previous
day. When, at last, the great train ran into the depot at Winnipeg,
where Gregory had arranged to meet them, it was with a thrill of
expectancy and relief that she stood upon the car platform. There was,
however, no sign of Gregory, and, though Wyllard handed her a telegram
from him a few minutes later, the fact that he had not arrived had a
depressing effect on her. Quiet as she usually was, the girl was highly
strung. Something had gone wrong with Hawtrey's wagon while he was
driving in to the railroad, and as the result of it he had missed the
Atlantic train. She could not blame him for the accident, but for all
that his absence was an unpleasant shock.

Feeling that her companions' eyes were upon her, she turned, and looking
out of the window found no encouragement in what she saw. The snow had
gone, and a vast expanse of grass ran back to the horizon! But it was a
dingy, grayish-white, and not green, as it had been in England. The sky
was low and gray, too, and the only thing that broke the dreary monotony
of lifeless color was the formless, darker smear of a birch bluff that
rose out of the empty levels. Her heart throbbed unpleasantly fast as
the few remaining minutes slipped away. She started when a dingy mass of
something that looked like buildings lifted itself above the prairie.

"The Clermont elevators," said Mrs. Hastings. "We'll be in directly."

The mass separated itself into two or three tall component blocks. A
huddle of little wooden houses grew into shape beneath them, and a
shrill whistle came ringing back above the slowing cars. A willow bluff,
half filled with old cans and garbage, flitted by, a big bell began
tolling, and Agatha rose when Mrs. Hastings took up her furs from a seat
close by. After that, the girl found herself standing on the platform of
the car, though she did not quite know how she got there, for she was
sensible only of the fact that in another moment or two she would greet
the lover whom she