"Oh, there is oceans of time," Mrs. Ross assured them, who seemed, for some unaccountable reason, bent on delaying them. "The train isn't due for ten minutes yet, and then it's more than likely to be late. Besides, there are a few last words I'd like to say to you girls that can be said better here than on the station platform." Then she started to give them some minute instructions, to which they tried hard to listen respectfully, although the mere effort to sit still was torture, and Mollie afterward said she "wanted to scream." However, the harangue lasted at the most, two minutes--although it seemed to the girls two ages--and they were at last on their way to the station. It was not till they turned the corner that brought the familiar platform in view, that they received their first surprise. The station was fairly thronged with people! "Wh-what is it?" stammered Betty, rubbing her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming. "Is everybody in Deepdale going away?" added Mollie, her eyes big with wonder. "I've never seen so many people at the station at one time," added Grace, bewildered. "Do you know what it is, Mrs. Ross?" asked Amy. But Mrs. Ross made no answer--she did not have to. The crowd at the station caught sight of the four girls, and a great shout went up. "Hurray," cried a masculine voice. "Hurray for the Outdoor Girls. Give 'em three cheers and a tiger." The girls stood still, amazed, bewildered, until suddenly, out of a maze of tangled thoughts, light dawned. "They're cheering _us_, Mollie," whispered Betty, squeezing Mollie's hand until it hurt--at least it would have if Mollie had noticed it. "All these people have turned out early just to see us off." "I--I'm afraid I'm going to cry," said Mollie unsteadily. When the shouts had died down, Doctor Riley made a speech full of true Irish wit and humor, and pathos, too, telling the girls how deeply Deepdale had appreciated the active and patriotic work they had done for their country in the time of its bitterest need and how very sorry they all were to see them go. He went on to tell something of what the country was doing and had done, cracking a few jokes based on camp life, that almost sent the girls into hysterics--so finely balanced were they between laughter and tears. Then he ended with another eulogy of the Outdoor Girls and the hope that health and good fortune would follow them wherever they went. He stepped down from the box on which he had been making his address just as the sharp toot of the whistle gave warning of the train's approach. Some one handed him four little corsage bouquets of carnations, which he handed in turn to each one of the tremulous girls, with an appropriate little speech to each. With a grinding of brakes the train came to a standstill, and the crowd gave way to let them pass. Clutching the little bouquets tight and hoping desperately that they would not cry, the girls started for the train.