The next day the rain came down in sheets, and nothing drearier could be imagined than the Hetherford station, where Helen and Nathalie awaited the arrival of their friends, who were to depart on the train which was now almost due. Presently the old omnibus backed up to the platform, and from its damp interior the Hills and Andrews slowly emerged, their faces as gloomy as the leaden sky above, as they went through the irksome task of buying tickets and checking trunks. Nan came rushing in upon the scene just as the train drew up at the station. There were a few hurried words of farewell, and then, with a clanging of bells and puffing of steam, the train sped on its way to the far-off city. When the three girls clambered into the Lawrences' great closed rockaway, they felt sorely tempted to give way to tears and lamentations. The horses splashed through the mud, the rain beat against the windowpanes, the east wind wailed and sighed through the trees. Nan got out at the parsonage, and in silence the two sisters drove on to the manor. Nathalie threw off her hat and coat, and seating herself at the big table in the center of the hall-way, began a long letter to Jean. From the fireside Helen watched her for a few moments and then mounted slowly to her room, feeling too dispirited for even Aunt Helen's society. By and by a soft little voice from without begged for admission, and she opened the door and gladly drew Gladys into the room. "Baby, you are just the little girlie I wanted. Sister feels very dull and lonely to-day." "Me too," echoed Gladys, as she climbed into her lap. "Well, well, that is too bad. We shall have to comfort each other." "What is comfort, sister?" "Comfort, Dolly? Why to comfort anyone is to try to make them happy when something is troubling them." "Auntie says I'se her comfort," Gladys affirmed, with a wise little nod of her head. "So you are, pet, and not only Auntie's, but mine too." The child nestled down contentedly in her sister's arms. Her big eyes, wandering about the room, rested at length upon a large folding frame of photographs which stood on the mantel. "I wish Jeanie didn't go 'way," she said in a pathetic little voice. "What made you think of Jean, dear?" "'Cause I just was lookin' at her picture." Helen lifted her eyes to the mantel. "So you were. We all miss Jean very much, don't we, darling?" "Who's that, sister?" asked Gladys, pointing to the photograph next to the one of Jean. "Don't you know?" "I kind of 'member, but I ain't sure." "Have you forgotten Mr. Appleton, Gladys--Guy Appleton?" queried Helen in a low tone. "Oh, now I 'member," cried Gladys gleefully. "Don't you know the little kitty he gave me? Larry harnessed her to my little wed cart, an' she wan up the willow tree with it." And at the recollection, the child burst into a merry peal of laughter.