“People in the country have to stay at home and work,” was the short reply. Posey had already noticed that Mrs. Hagood had a way of clipping her words off short as though she had no time to waste on them. “When they do go,” she added, “they mostly take the morning train, as I did, and come back later. This train never stops here unless it has passengers to let off, or some one flags it to get on.” As she talked they had walked around the narrow platform to the opposite side of the station, and Mrs. Hagood, shading her eyes with her hand, for the afternoon sun was now low and level, looked down the road with the remark, “I should like to know where Elnathan Hagood is. I told him to be here in time to meet this train.” Naturally Posey felt a degree of curiosity as to the family she was about to enter, and with Mrs. Hagood’s words came the reflection, “So, then, she has a boy. I hope I shall like him.” A few moments later an open buggy drawn by a stout, sleek bay horse came in sight over the nearest hill, whose occupant Posey saw as it drew near was a small, middle-aged man, with a pleasant face, mild blue eyes, and a fringe of thin brown beard, touched with grey, under his chin. “I thought, Elnathan,” was Mrs. Hagood’s greeting as he drew up to the platform, “that I told you to be here by train-time.” As Elnathan Hagood climbed slowly out over the muddy wheel, there was apparent a slight stoop to his shoulders, and droop to his hat-brim, and a certain subtle but none the less palpable air of one who had long been subjected to a slightly repressive, not to say depressing influence. “Wal, now, Almiry,” he remarked with the manner of a man to whom the apologetic had become habitual, “I did lay out to be here on time, but the roads hev thawed so since morning that it took me longer than I’d calc’lated on.” His wife gave a sniff of contempt. “I only hope I sha’n’t catch my death o’ cold waitin’ here in this raw wind, clear tired out as I be, too. But now you are here at last, see if you can put these things in, and not be all the afternoon about it, either.” “I see you did get a little girl,” with a nod and kindly smile at Posey, who stood a little apart. “Yes,” rejoined Mrs. Hagood tartly, “I said I was goin’ to, and when _I_ plan to do a thing I carry it out _as_ I planned it, and _when_ I planned it. “I know,” she continued, regarding Posey as though she had been a wooden image, or something equally destitute of hearing, to say nothing of feeling, “that it’s a big risk to take one of those street children; you never know what tricks they have, or what they may turn out to be. This one isn’t very big, but she looks healthy, an’ I see she was spry, an’ I guess I’ll be able to make her earn as much as her salt, anyway.”