No one had anything to eat, for all had counted on reaching their destination by supper time, so that sundown saw a group of hungry people with only Miss Zillah Pace’s generous supply of cookies to comfort them. But at last the engine was repaired in such a way that the engineer “reckoned it would hold,” and the train moved cautiously on through the darkness, delayed here and there at sidings, and throwing trains all along the line out of their time schedule. There was silence in the car. The traveling men no longer told their stories; Aunt Zillah nodded but dared not doze for fear of missing her station; the mountain woman brooded patiently, caring little, it seemed, as to what fate might have in store for her; and little Constance slept in Azalea’s arms. Carin was supremely patient and quiet; and the bright eyes of Keefe O’Connor gleamed now and then from under the rim of his cap, which was pulled low over his face, and behind which he was occupied in thinking his own thoughts. But he was alert enough when the conductor came to warn him that they were approaching Rowantree Road. He and Azalea between them got the little girl awake, and with his packages and hers, the friends saw him swing off the train in the black murk. The conductor’s lantern threw a little glow around him where he stood holding the hand of Constance fast in his own. “Mighty good thing you’re here, sir,” they heard the conductor say. “I certainly would have been put out if I’d had to leave the little one in the dark by herself.” “Oh, my daddy is somewhere,” Constance reassured him in her high ringing tones; and as they pulled out they heard her voice calling “Daddy! Daddy!” “There’s a light!” cried Aunt Zillah excitedly. “See, it’s just up the track a way. Her father must be there after all. Really, it’s the greatest relief to me.” The traveling men seemed to be relieved, too. So was the conductor; so, no doubt, were the brakemen. No one knows what the engineer felt. He probably was praying that his repairs would hold out. The mountain woman took out her snuff stick again. Just then the conductor called: “All out for Bee Tree.” Azalea caught at her parcels; Carin gathered up hers more deliberately; Aunt Zillah arose in a flutter, dropping things here and there which the conductor and the youngest of the traveling men picked up, and presently they were off in the mellow gloom. But it was a gloom with a lantern-light to mitigate it. “Be you the ladies Mr. Summers writ about?” a cordial voice inquired. “I’m McEvoy. Step along this way, please.” CHAPTER III SUNSET GAP