She was dressed in a plain, neat, buff linen travelling suit, and looked fresh and comfortable, despite the heat and dust of the August day. She stood in the doorway of a village railway depot, tapping the toe of one neatly booted foot on the sill of the door, in a manner that might have betokened impatience or restlessness. Turning occasionally, she let her bright eyes rove over the ill-built, ill-kept, never cleaned room, where lickless travelers were doomed to pass their waiting time, and her rosy lip curled in a scornful or disgusted way; up the long, dusty hill leading to the depot buildings straggled a middle-aged man, with his hands in his pockets, and his straw hat on the back of his head. He quickened his pace when he saw the fair picture framed in the doorway, and presently mounted the steps and stood before her, speaking in a tone that was half greeting and half surprise:
"Well, and so you are really here?"
The young lady, thus addressed, jumped down from the door step, and standing beside the man, reached up and touched two rosy lips to his hard, brown cheek, ere she answered:
"Didn't you expect me, father?"