Gay and light-hearted she could not be, but hope kindled anew within her as she thought on Mrs. Bond’s last words. Ah, she would not despair! her long-lost mother, and Espy too, would yet be restored. His words had deeply wounded her, but surely the love which had been given her from their very infancy could not be so suddenly withdrawn. “We are moving very slowly; something must be wrong. Don’t you think so, miss?” queried a woman in the next seat, turning suddenly around upon Floy. The words startled our heroine from her reverie, sending a sharp pang of grief and terror through her heart as they vividly recalled the horrors of the accident which had wrought her such woe. She had been hardly conscious of the fact, but certainly the train had gradually slackened speed for the last ten minutes or more; and now it stood still. “What is wrong? why do we stop here where there is no station?” she asked of the conductor, who was passing the car window. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said; “the boiler has sprung a leak, and we’ll have to stand here a while till they can get another engine sent down from Clearfield.” “Dear, dear!” fretted a thoughtless girl, “we shall be behind time all along the route now, miss our connections, and have no end of trouble.” But Floy’s heart swelled with gratitude that things were no worse. They had two long hours of waiting ere the train was again in motion, for the spot where it had halted was several miles from the nearest town, to which a messenger must be sent on foot to telegraph back to Clearfield for another engine; and when at last that arrived it had to propel the cars from behind, and the progress made was much slower than by the ordinary mode. Many of the passengers ventured to relieve the tedium of the detention by strolling about the prairie in the near vicinity of their train, and for the greater part of the time the car in which Floy sat was nearly deserted. Her attention was presently attracted by the fretting of a little child. “Mother, I’m hungry; gi’ me a cake.” “Now do be quiet, Sammy; you know I hain’t none for you,” returned the parent, “so what’s the use o’ teasin’? I’d give it to you in a minute if I had it.” By Mrs. Bond’s thoughtful kindness Floy had been supplied with a bountiful lunch. She was very glad of that now, and opening her basket, she invited mother and child to partake with her. “Thank you, miss,” said the former, a decent-looking countrywoman. “Sammy’ll be very glad of a bit of bread if you’ve got it to spare. I’d have brought a lunch along, but expected to be at my sister’s afore this, and it didn’t seem worth while.” “I have abundance for all three of us,” returned Floy, with a winning smile, displaying her stores; “so do let me have the pleasure of sharing with you.” “Yes, come, mother,” said Sammy, tugging at her skirts. Thus urged, the woman accepted the invitation. “Are you from Clearfield, miss?” she asked.