It was an extremely frightened girl who within five minutes appeared upon the station platform. She was quite out of breath, for she had been running. As he came toward her with outstretched hands, she stared at him from head to foot, as if to make sure he was not minus an arm or a leg. "Won't you even shake hands with me?" he asked anxiously. "You--you gave me such a fright," she panted. "How?" "I thought--I thought you must have been run over." He seemed rather pleased. "And you cared?" he asked eagerly. She was fast recovering herself now. "Well, it wouldn't be unnatural to care, would it, if you expected to find a friend all run over?" "And, now that you find I'm not a mangled corpse, you don't care at all." Of course he wouldn't choose to be a corpse, because he would not have been able to enjoy the situation; but, on the whole, he was sorry that he did not have a mangled hand or something to show. Evidently his whole hand did not interest her--she had not yet offered to take it. "How in the world did you get here?" she demanded. "I took the train." "But--has anything happened?" "Lots of things have happened," he said. "That's what I want to tell you about." He looked around. His messenger was taking an eager interest in the situation. "That's why I came to see you," he explained. "Of course, if it's necessary to confide also in your neighbor over there, I'll do it; but I thought that perhaps you could suggest some less public place." She appeared frightened in a different sort of way now. "But, Mr. Pendleton--" "I'm going to remain here perhaps a day or two," he interrupted. To him the most obvious course was for her to ask him to meet her aunt and invite him to remain there. "Is there a hotel in town?" he asked. "I--I don't think so," she faltered. "Then," he decided, "I must find some sort of camping-place. If you know a bit of woods where I can spend the night, you might direct me." He was quite himself now. It was a relief to her. It put her quite off her guard. "Won't you come and meet my aunt?" she invited. He picked up his suitcase at once. "It will be a pleasure," he answered. She could not imagine what her aunt would think when she appeared so abruptly escorting a young man with a suitcase, but that did not seem to matter. She knew no better than her aunt what had brought him here; but, now that he was here, it was certain that she must take care of him. She could not allow him to wander homelessly around the village or permit him to camp out like a gypsy. It did not occur to her to reason that this predicament was wholly his fault. All the old feeling of responsibility came back. As they walked side by side down the street, he was amazed to see how much good even these two days in the country had done her. There was more color in her cheeks and more life in her walk. She was wearing a middy blouse, and that made her look five years younger. She looked up at him.