So the boy went forth alone; turning round at the last corner, and waving his hat with an air of triumph which was very make-believe indeed. His heart was as heavy as lead, and he called himself the greatest ninny in existence; leaving such a home, and such a mother, and three such girls. For in that last look back Magnus had not failed to see the curling smoke that floated away from the chimney of Cherry's house, high up upon the hill. What a silly he was, sure enough. Why, the mere old lilac bushes in the dooryard were better than all West Point. Nevertheless, he went on-- "For men must work and women must weep." Happily for the women, their life is generally more real and prosaic than the poet thought; and they also have to work on, through their tears. The train came rushing up on time; Magnus swung himself in; and with a derisive snort the locomotive tore him away from home, and mother, and the three girls. As a rule, the inmates of a railway car are extremely unsympathetic to look at. What face or figure do you ever see there to which you would like to appeal in case of need? When the need comes, indeed, there is generally someone to take it up, a comforting thought, worth remembering; but for the most part people hold themselves visibly aloof, except in the way of growling over open windows, or of striving for seats. Charlemagne Kindred looked up and down the car, scanning briefly the faces as he took his seat; and the width of the world, and its exceeding low temperature, settled down upon his heart as a new fact. The first day and the first night went by wearily enough. Magnus had decided to save money by not taking a sleeper; assuring his anxious mother and sisters that he could sleep anyhow and anywhere. And so he could, at home, as they well knew. But it seemed to him in that long first night, as if the boards of their barn floor at home were softer (as they were certainly far sweeter) than all the cushions of the night express. What fumes the men brought in from the smoking car! What gruff voices and hollow laughs and idle words were all about him. Disgust, fatigue, and strangeness took the boy in their hard hands, until, as the second night drew on, Magnus did not know himself. He wondered what was the matter with him: wondered if he was going to be ill: and never guessed for a while that he was growing deathly, deadly homesick.