It was half-past two when I re-entered the big station, inquired of a news-stand girl the way to the restaurant, and found my way to the lunch counter. Instead of luncheon with Oliver, at a small table in some darling little college-town restaurant, I hoisted myself up on a stool and ordered a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee. The girl who drew the steaming black liquid out of the shining metal tank looked sour and dissatisfied. She slopped some of it on the saucer as she shoved the thick crockery toward me. She slammed down my check and slung a towel up over her shoulder with a sort of vehemence that expressed my feelings exactly. I don't know why she was so miserable; I never knew; but I sympathised just the same. When she dropped a glass and it shattered and broke at her feet, she merely shrugged her shoulders, and kicked the pieces as if she didn't care a rap if the whole station fell down and broke. Oh, I just loved that girl, somehow. I knew she thought life was cruel, hard as iron, and terribly unjust. I wasn't the only one who at that moment was not cheering with the crowds at the football game. I wasn't the only wretched person in the world. CHAPTER X About a week after I had been down to see Oliver, I observed that something strange had come over Dr. Maynard. The first time I noticed it was the day I hailed him when he was passing the house one noon, and gave him an envelope with my December allowance sealed up inside. I explained it was in part payment of the loan he had made me the week before. He didn't laugh; he didn't even smile; he was as solemn as a judge, as he took that envelope and put it in his breast-pocket. Usually there is a joke on the tip of Dr. Maynard's tongue. He is always saving situations from becoming serious by a bit of fun. I never knew what it was to feel uncomfortable with Dr. Maynard. The next day when he passed me alone in his automobile, when I was coming home from downtown, it flashed upon me as very odd that he didn't stop and take me in as usual. Then it occurred to me that he hadn't taken me out for a ride, for days. I got to thinking! The next Sunday at church he and Alec seemed friendly enough, but I observed that Dr. Maynard didn't drop in on us in the afternoon. The grave look that had come into his eyes when he passed those two bills to me that morning on his front porch, the solemn tone in his voice when he said, "Then, here it is, Bobbie," seemed to be there every time he spoke to me. I was sorry. It made me uneasy. It didn't seem as if I could bear it if Dr. Maynard should go back on me--along with the business, and Alec, and everything and everybody I ever cared a cent about.