"I wonder if I really am free," Hertha said to herself. "I'd like to find out." The railroad journey was uneventful to Miss Witherspoon, but full of novelty to Hertha. Accustomed to the jim-crow coach, the Pullman with its comfortable bed, its luxurious dining-car, was a revelation. But she showed no sign of unfamiliarity and moved through the day, and even climbed to her high perch at night as though it were a usual routine. But all the time she was revolving a plan and wondering whether she would have the courage to carry it out. She had told Ellen that she could not go ahead and make things happen, but she felt that it was possible, if you did not like a thing, quietly to avoid it. The conception of freedom of which Tom wrote was taking a strong hold upon her. As she lay awake looking up at the lighted ceiling of the car, feeling the presence of the many people traveling like herself to the strange North, people who were now of her world, she grew impatient at the circumscription that was being prepared for her. The story of her life had been told to Miss Witherspoon's friends, Miss Witherspoon had planned her future, and she would be an ever pervasive factor in her life in the months to come. Hertha suspected that to be with her would be like going to school again. But the cage door was open and she might, if she had the courage, make a genuine flight, alone. Yes, alone. If she could not be with those she loved, she did not wish at once to link her life to some one whom she was growing to dislike, some one who intended to fashion the order of her ways. Why not slip away from this new chaperon who, after all, was only a chance acquaintance? So she reasoned as she lay awake at night, and as she looked out of her window during the day while the train swung steadily northward and prosperous cities, belching factories, well tilled fields, great barns, and spacious farmhouses whizzed past, her courage and her desire for adventure grew. She had money, she was white, she would learn what it meant to be free. "We shall soon be in New York," Miss Witherspoon said on the second day. "We arrive, you know, at the Pennsylvania station and we take a taxi there for the Grand Central. I am sorry that I can't stop to show you New York, but I delayed my departure from Merryvale longer than I expected, that I might bring you with me, and it is imperative that I go at once to Boston." "I certainly do not want to put you to any inconvenience." Hertha's tone was polite, but at heart she felt angry. She wanted to see New York and her companion had killed all desire she might have had to see Boston. She was hot with excitement when later they drew into the station. "What did you give your bags to another boy for?" Miss Witherspoon questioned.