"I saw the truck—" I tried to answer; but my voice sounded queer, and the words would not come rightly. I could not think what was the matter, and I cried "Father!" in a fright. Somebody handed Mr. Armstrong a glass of water, and he put it to my lips. That took away the parched feeling, and then Rupert came near, and mustered courage to say in his blunt fashion,— "Kitty did it. I saw her on the top of the embankment, running like a hare. I didn't know what for." "Was it you, Kitty?" father asked. "I saw the truck," I said; "and I had mother's shawl; and I ran to meet the express. There wasn't time for anything else." "Brave girl!" "Splendid presence of mind!" I heard them say. Other people came, and the crowd round us grew, and there was a buzz of voices, asking and exclaiming and praising. Sir Richard shook hands with me, and his brother, the director, followed his example, saying, "No doubt many of us owe our lives to this little girl's promptitude." I don't suppose he took me for seventeen. By that time I had colour enough, and I felt almost as if I could sink into the ground; yet I liked it all, and the words of praise set me into a glow of happiness; for it did seem grand to think that I, little Kitty Phrynne, should have been able to save lives. Somebody spoke about "wretched mismanagement," and "arrant carelessness." And that of course was true enough, though it wasn't to do with us at Claxton, for the luggage train hadn't even stopped at our station. But father and the men had noticed the trucks put on behind the guard's van; and there was a lot of talk about this. I heard the word "illegal" over and over again from the gentlemen, and Mr. Arthur frowned, and said somebody would have to be called to account for that!—which indeed did happen, and more than one man was dismissed, though nobody to do with us. Then there was some wondering why the truck hadn't been seen sooner, and I thought poor father was being blamed. I said, "O no!" and explained to them how we could see farther along the curve from the top of our garden than from anywhere else near. It was just that one chance glimpse, if one may use the word "chance" in such a manner, which gave me power to act. The truck was seen from the station almost directly after; and a telegram came from the next station, warning us that it had been missed. But all would have been too late if I had not had that glimpse. After this more was said about me. Such a fuss was made, that it wouldn't be much wonder if my head was a little turned. Mr. Armstrong said to me in a low voice, "Kitty, this is something to thank God for!" But I am afraid I thought more about being praised by men than about thanking God. And yet there was nothing in what I did that deserved praise. If it hadn't been for that Heaven-sent thought about the red shawl—which I am quite sure was Heaven-sent, and not my own— the crash must have taken place.