“Coom in lassie an hae a soop o’ ma tea. ’Tis fine and warrm! … Coom in and let me offer ye some refreshment, an’ if A may mak sae bold may A offer ye all A hae that’ll warm ye? Coom in ma’am. Coom in ma leddie!” he said in a crescendo of welcome and respect as he saw Joy’s fine motor coat and recognised her air of distinction. Glad indeed was Joy to drink from the worthy fellow’s tin tea-bottle which rested beside the stove; glad to sit down in front of the fire. Then indeed she felt the magnitude of her weariness, and in a minute would have been asleep. But the thought of her father, and all that depended on her action and his knowledge, wakened her to full intellectual activity. She stood up at once and said quickly: “What place is this?” “The signal-box of Castle Douglas Junction.” “And where is that? I think I have heard the name before.” “’Tis a toon as they ca’ it here. The junction is o’ the Glasgie an’ South Western, the Caledonian, the Port Patrich an’ Wigtownshire, the London an’ North Western, an’ the Midland lines. But for short there are but twa. One frae Kirkcudbright, an’ th’ ither frae Newton Stewart.” “In what country are we?” Seeing the astonishment in his face she went on: “I am an American, and not familiar with the district. We came from England this morning--from Westmoreland--from Ambleside--and I am confused about the Border. I had to drive myself because my--we got into trouble for driving fast, and I had to come on alone. And then the fog overtook me. I went along as well as I could. Are we anywhere near Carlisle?” Her face fell as she saw the shake of his head: “Eh ma leddie but ye’re mony a mile frae Carlisle. ’Tis over fifty miles be the line. Ye maun hae lost yer way sair. Ye’re in Kirkcudbright-shire the noo.” Her heart sank: “Oh I must send a telegram at once.” “Ye canna telegraph the nicht ma leddie! The office is closed till eight the morn’s morn.” “My God! What shall I do. My father arrived from London to-night and he does not know where I am. I came out for a drive and thought to be back in good time to meet him. He will be in despair. Is there no way in which I can send word? It is not a matter of expenses; I shall pay anything if it can be done!” She looked at him in an agony of apprehension. The man was stirred by the depth of emotion and by her youth and beauty; and his clever Scotch brain began to work. His mouth set fast in a hard line and his rough heavy brows began to wrinkle. After a pause he said: “A’ll do what A can, ma leddie; though A can’t be sure if ’twill wark. The telegraphs are closed. Even if we could find an operator it wouldn’t be possible to get the wires. Our own lines are closed, for we’ll hae no traffic till morn.” Here an idea struck Joy and she interrupted him: “Could I not get a special train? I am willing to pay anything?”