“It’s wild at Rowantree Road,” said the little Constance gravely, looking up from under her long lashes with almost the expression of some woods creature. “We never see anybody hardly. You can’t think how wild it is!” Time went on and in spite of Miss Zillah’s reserved manner, all of the young people were beginning to enjoy themselves and each other when the train came to a sudden stop. It was so sudden that it threw Constance forward on Carin’s lap and hurled the contents of the overhead carry-alls down on the heads of the travelers. “Oh!” cried Constance, righting herself, “I hope Mary Cecily isn’t broken!” “What is it?” asked Miss Zillah anxiously, addressing herself to the only man in the party. But the young man was already out of the car, making investigations, and he was followed by four traveling men who plunged out of the smoking room. “Oh, let’s go see—” began Azalea. But Miss Zillah’s hand was on her arm. “Sit still, my dear. The gentlemen will look to the matter,” she said with the confidence of the old-time woman. “Of course they will,” protested Azalea, half-vexed and half-laughing. “They’ll have all the fun of seeing to it. I want some of the fun myself.” “No doubt the engine has broken down,” said Carin calmly, “and you couldn’t do anything about that, could you, Azalea?” Constance wriggled out of her seat and started for the door, but Miss Zillah caught and held her gently. “You are much better in here, my dear,” she said. The child, rebuked, turned her attention to picking up the articles that had fallen from their racks. There were, in the seat where their new acquaintance had been sitting, a knapsack and an artist’s kit, marked K. O’C. in large black letters on the canvas. “K stands for Kitty,” said Miss Constance. “O stands for Oliver. C stands for Constance.” The young man came rushing back into the car, and he overheard. “K stands for Keefe,” he declared, “and O’C for O’Connor. That’s myself, such as I am. The engine has broken down—” “Just as I thought,” murmured Carin. “And we’re likely to be tied up here for hours.” “It is a single track, I think,” said Miss Zillah with forced calm. “Are we not in danger of a collision? Would you advise me, sir, to take the young ladies out into the open air?” “Why not?” asked Keefe O’Connor, packing articles back in the racks and generally settling the car. “We may as well break up the time a little.” He happened to look at Constance and caught a look of dismay on the face that until now had been so cheerful. “Well, Miss Rowantree, what is it?” he asked. “If we stay here for hours,” said the wise little girl, “it will be jet dark when I get to my place.” Her lips quivered a little. “Come dark, come light,” said the young man, “you’ll be all right, Constance Rowantree. Just you trust to me. Anyway, worry never yet mended anything.”