front door.

So the little procession trailed away and left Arethusa once more
alone, and most disconsolate, against her kindly iron pillar.

The station had gradually become deserted, until there were only a few
employees pottering about here and there, and one lone man standing
talking to the blue-capped man at the gate.

Arethusa's mental picture of her father had been very clear. All this
while she had been looking for the handsome youth of the wavy dark
hair, eccentrically long, and the graceful Italian military cape. And
she had been looking for him without adding a single year to his age,
perfectly confident she would know him anywhere.

Ross had really been on time, despite his "fooling." He had arrived
before the first passenger left Arethusa's train. And he had waited
until every human being had gone before starting to leave himself, so
he was the lone man Arethusa saw questioning the gatekeeper.

Elinor's last suggestion that the daughter might resemble her mother
had been taken literally, and all these moments Ross's search had been
for a tiny, dainty bit of a girl with cornflower eyes. When the crowd
had somewhat thinned, he had noticed Arethusa and her prettiness and
her height, standing so forlornly by herself, had mentally labeled Miss
Letitia's costuming, "a Godey's Ladies' Book relic," and had turned
away again to his search for the Dresden china daughter, who did not
seem to be anywhere about. Ross was vexed to have been snatched from
his book for this fruitless trip to the station. If Miss Eliza had
postponed Arethusa's coming once more, she should have written them
about it, or telegraphed; for they should surely have been notified.

As he passed Arethusa on his way out he saw that her grey eyes under
their long black lashes (he noticed them first because they were such
unusually beautiful eyes) were full of shining tears, some of which
were beginning to roll, unashamed, down the girl's cheek. A damsel in
distress always appealed to Ross, for no knight of the time of
tournaments had no more real chivalry in his composition, and so he
stopped.

"Could I help you in any way?" he asked courteously. "Are you in
trouble?"

Arethusa was just on the point of seeking Mr. Cherry and his promised
assistance, when out of the bleak expanse of that awful and lonely
platform Providence had sent this other help: a Man with reassuring
grey hairs and a smile which she could not possibly mistake for
anythin