The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1871-12-23

heavier, too, and she began to fall into lit
tie uneasy dozes, with her cheek pillowed
on her satchel. She was so tired that even
the prospect of being showed up all night
in deep cut could not keep her awake
She fell asleep even while thinking with
dismay that the town where her aunt lived
was twelve miles from the railroad station.
and the mountain roads would probably
be rendered impossible for the carriage
which was to meet her. Emmie had said
that stage, which ran from the station to
willie regularly during the summer,
had been chartered for the use of her party,
although it had long ceased to make its
daily trips.
Margie wondered if they would go off
merrily and safely, and leave her to her
fate. She dozed off, dreamed her aunt's
carriage had overturned in snow drift,
and she was buried in the snow, and started
awake to find her satchel fallen on the floor,
little snow drift stealing in through the
crack in the window, and melting on her
neck-and Mr.. Winston's dark eyes axed
on her in grave, curious expression.
1t was so provoking and ridiculous sit
uation, and Margie blushed crimson as she
caught the gentleman's eye, and then with
sudden dignity she sat up, united her brown
veil, (her bonnet had all this time been sus-
pended ON hook above her head and
brushed the snow. from her hair and neck.
What wealth of lovely red gold, waving
hair rolled down on her shoulder as she
unfastened the ugly veil! And what pretty
white hands they were that caught it, and
wound it hurriedly into a great knot at the
back of her head!
Then she attempted to close the window
more tightly, but with all the strength of
both hands she could not move it. She
looked up in great surprise as another hand
was quietly placed upon the window, and
the provoking thing" slid easily into its
place. Mr.. Winston had come to her aid,
and she gave him a shyly grateful look
from her dark-fringed eyes and a murmured
"thank you," which ought to have re-
warded him well for his trouble.
Again Margie dropped into an uneasy
slumber, and this time she was reused from
troubled dreams by the touch of gentle
hands on her head. Emmie's smiling eyes
met hers for a Notwithstanding soft
and warm interposed between her cheek
and the hard wood Of the car seat-a gen.
eral sensation of comfort stole over her,
and she slept again, with the scarlet and
purple afghan wrapped around her, and
her head nesting on a soft cushion
made of its folds. She slept long and
sweetly, while the train Jared on, the snow
drifts deepened, the wind howled through
the deep cuts, and the winter night came
stealing on.
Margie could scarcely help thinking it
part of her dreams, when a voice reused
her with the words, "We are near
station. think you'd better put on your
bonnet" 1t was her friend Emmie who
spoke, and Margie attempted to smile back
into the girls bright face, but she was too
bewildered and startled to speak or to do
anything but rub her eyes. Then, with
fingers that seemed fairly numb with sleep
mess, she tied on her bonnet, picked up
her bag, and followed Emmie and her
| friends from the cars. She shivered with
the plunge into the snowy air, which roughly
and effectually wakened her. Some one
put out a hand to help her to the platform;
some one else called out, Come on, John;
we are waiting" and she saw that Mr..
Winston was again her helper. He walked
on up the platform, and she looked around
eagerly for the carriage which was to meet
her. The cars whistled, and moved off up
the snowy track, and Margie was left stand
ing lonely dark little figure on the white
platform. Snow on the distant mountains
that rose like white domes into the sky,
feathery plumes Of snow browning every
dark pine tree in the dim forests all around
the little station, great drifts of snow
heaped in the narrow road that plunged
into the forest and was lost to view; snow
on the wood piled along the railroad, snow
on the glaring red stage that stood near the
house, and on the backs of the six bay
horses that were harnessed to it, and that
stamped and smoked as the flakes gathered
on them; snow under Margie's little feet,
and on her cloak, and in her eyes, and
in the air she breathed. And there
was no carriage waiting for her. The
stage-driver, who was standing by his
horses, shook his head as she questioned
him, and said g. he didn't believe it would
be possible for a carriage to come from
vile ina week."
She looked around the wide waste of
building which served the purposes of
depot, store, and post Office at once. A
week in this dreary place! That was SIM
ply impossible! She must get on by some
means. "Was there no cart to be hired {?
No horse she could ride to willie ?"
The driver looked curiously at the trou-
bled childish face of the questioner,
and shook his head again. "No, Fam,
there amt nothin' to be got about here,
and twouldn't be possible to 60 in, or on
it, if there was; not such weather as this
lam going through if things hold together.
That is am going to take load of folks
to Col. Ben Elliott's a mile this side of
willie. I don't see nothin to hinder
your going that far with them. 1 thought
you were one of that crowd.''
No, Margie wasn't one Of "that crowd"
She was stranger to all of them. She had
no right to seat in vehicle chartered by
them, and she could not ask it as favor.
Besides, she could not 60 to Col. Elliott's,
of course. Was there no place here that
she could stay in till her aunt sent for her.
eyes, the driver "s'posed" she could
stay at Mrs. Simmons. She was the store
keepers wife, and lived in the rooms over
the store.
While Margie was making up her mind
to ask shelter of Mrs. Simmons, a quick
step came over the snowy platform, and
Mr. Winston's voice sounded beside her.
Excuse me. did not mean to leave
you standing in the snow, but went to
insure your trunks being taken off. There
| is a very comfortable room above the store