JANET'S PASSENGER
Janet left the house by the cellar window instead of the easier way.
It would be hard to explain her reasons, but it was noticeable that
when she had safely climbed out and stood on the ground by the
window, she leaned over and picked up something and put it away
hastily in the pocket of her dress. A great many years were to pass
before she showed it to another soul.
"Come along, Clinker," she said briskly, as she went to the shed.
"It's high time we were starting." She jumped into the cart, and
Clinker, only too delighted to start for home, set off at a brisk
pace.
It was a long way by road back to the village, and it was dusk before
they neared it. As they came within sight of the railroad station
Janet heard a train pulling in, and remembering Clinker's dislike for
locomotives she slowed up to wait until it left the station.
It was the train from Boston, and she could not help wishing that
Mrs. Todd and Peter were on it.
When the last puff of the engine was lost in the distance, she drove
past the station very slowly. Of course there was no sign of Mrs.
Todd or Peter, and she drove on, disappointed in spite of herself. A
short stretch of wood made the road quite dark ahead of her for a
way. Clinker pricked up his ears as they entered it but Janet did
not pay any attention to him and was therefore thoroughly startled
when a voice, coming apparently from nowhere, called:
"Wait a minute there, will you!"
She pulled Clinker to a sudden stop and waited. A man walked out of
the shadows and came up to the cart.
"I beg your pardon," he said, taking off his hat. "I didn't see it
was a lady driving."
"Well, but what difference does that make?" Janet answered awkwardly.
"Won't I do?"
The man laughed and showed a set of the whitest teeth Janet had ever
seen.
"Well, as a matter of fact," he explained in his low voice, "I was
going to ask for a lift."
Janet looked at him for a minute and decided she liked him, and
therefore it would not be necessary to treat him the way she usually
treated strangers.
"Why can't I give you one?" she asked, laughing too.
"Well, now, that's mighty nice of you, and I'm very much obliged," he
said. "My bag is a little too heavy to make walking any fun." He
got in with surprising quickness, and Janet started Clinker by a word.
"That's a mighty fine horse you've got there," he said quietly.
"Yes, isn't he a beauty! His name's Clinker," Janet replied. "He
doesn't belong to me, though. I only wish he did."
They were out of the wood by now, and she turned to look at her
passenger. He was, to judge from the way he had to pull his knees
up, a very tall man and certainly he was handsome. His face was
burned a dark tan, and his eyes were set far apart and deep in his
head. His hat covered most of his hair, but Janet knew it was brown
like his eyes. There were lines at his temples that proved, if proof
were necessary, that he laughed a good deal. He had big broad
shoulders and nice long lean hands, that looked as though he could do
almost anything with them.
"Well?" he asked, laughing, and Janet realized she had been staring.
"I really couldn't help it, you see," she apologized, very much
confused. "Why, I've forgotten to ask you where you wanted to go?"
she added.
"To a hotel if there is one," the man replied.
"Oh, but there isn't," Janet laughed. "We have a boarding house
where most every one stays. The post mistress keeps it, but I'm
afraid you won't like it very much."
The man considered for a minute or so, and then smiled and shrugged.
"Then I must take the chance of being mistaken for a tramp in these
dusty clothes and go straight home."
"Where's home?" Janet inquired. "I don't like to be inquisitive, but
we are almost to Main Street now."
"Not at all, I didn't realize I hadn't introduced myself. I'm Tom
Page; perhaps you know my little sister Janet."
Whatever Janet did no one will ever know, but Clinker, and he showed
his disapproval of it by almost jumping over the shafts. If Tom had
not caught the reins and made him come to order he might have
succeeded in running away.
"Well, well, what happened?" he inquired, when Clinker was walking
quietly again. "I didn't see anything to frighten the animal, did
you?"
"I--I did it," Janet gasped. "Can't you see! I'm Janet, and
you--oh, I know I'm dreaming."
"You!" It was Tom's turn to be surprised. "Why, you can't be.
Janet is just a youngster and you are a very grown up young person."
"But I'm Janet just the same, and, well--how do you do, Tom; I'm very
glad to see you." She held out her hand.
"Bless your heart!" Tom put his arm around her and in spite of
Clinker gave her a hearty kiss. "What luck for us to meet like
this!"--he laughed--"and I had pictured it so differently, and you
are just about fifty times as nice as I thought you were going to be."
"Well," Janet sighed happily, "you certainly are heaps nicer than _I_
thought you were going to be."
They turned the corner by the rectory, and Clinker, without asking
any one's permission, turned in at the gate.
"We will have to leave the horse here," Janet explained. "He belongs
to Mrs. Todd. I was just doing an errand for her."
"Mrs. Todd." Tom was thoughtful. "I seem to remember her--oh,
yes,"--and he laughed. "I'd like to meet her."
"But she's in Boston," Janet replied. "She's only visiting at the
rectory."
"Well, you'd better let me out anyway," Tom suggested. "I don't want
to meet anybody to-night. You rustle along, and I'll wait here." He
jumped out, and Janet hurried to the barn, where the hired man was
waiting to unhitch Clinker.
Mrs. Blake came out on to the back porch.
"Is that you, Janet?" she called.
"Yes, Mrs. Blake, I was a little delayed in getting home. I hope you
haven't been worried," Janet replied.
"Only a little uneasy," Mrs. Blake confessed; "won't you come in and
see the girls?"
"Oh, not to-night, thank you. I must really hurry home." Janet
spoke with so much concern that Mrs. Blake did not urge her, and
after a hurried good night she was able to join Tom.
"It's quite a long walk home," she apologized. "I wish I could have
driven all the way. Won't you let me help you with that bag!"
Tom laughed his hearty, good-natured laugh, and caught his little
sister by the arm.
"You little featherweight! I could carry you and the bag and never
know you were there. But we'll take it easy, and that will give us
more time to talk. First of all, how is grandmother?"
"Oh, she's well; that is, of course, she is in bed always, but I
think she feels all right otherwise," Janet replied.
"Yes, of course. I was forgetting. Let me see, who else is in the
house?"
"Why, just Martha and me; that's all."
"Any friends? Your letter sounded as though you were lonely."
"I am sometimes," Janet confessed; "that is, I used to be. Lately I
haven't had time because there's been Peter and Mrs. Todd."
"Who's Peter?" Tom inquired. "The boy that was afraid of snakes?"
"Certainly not," Janet denied hotly; "that was Harry Waters."
Tom started to ask a question, thought better of it, and said instead:
"How about girls?"
Janet did not reply at once. Her own mind was far from made up on
the subject, and it was difficult to answer Tom.
"I don't know any girls, really," she replied slowly. "The ones I
have met didn't like me much, and I didn't like them. When I wrote
that letter to you I thought I wanted a girl friend more than
anything else in the world, but now I guess boys are better; anyway,
they don't say mean things behind your back."
"All girls are not alike, little sister of mine. There are lots of
girls in the world that are just like you and you'd like them, even
better than you like boys."
There was a long pause, and finally Janet said:
"Tom, do you remember what I said in my letter about wishing you were
a sister instead of a brother?"
"Even to the exact words,"--Tom laughed. "You said that I would be
much more of a comfort to you as a sister. That's what made me come
on at once. I wanted to prove that brothers are some use in the
world."
"Don't tease," Janet begged. "I only reminded you of it so that I
could say I was sorry."
"But you would like to have a sister too, wouldn't you?" Tom asked
anxiously.
"Oh, of course,"--Janet laughed. "I'd like to have one too, but not
in place of you."
"Then _that's_ all right,"--Tom gave her arm a tight squeeze. "Isn't
that our house?" he inquired, as the light from Mrs. Page's room
twinkled in the distance.
"Why, yes, but how did you know?" Janet asked, surprised.
"Oh, I was ten years old before I left for school," Tom explained.
"You were a tiny baby then."
Janet lapsed into another thoughtful silence.
"Tom," she said seriously, "why didn't you ever come back!"
Tom's voice was very gentle as he answered her:
"That, little sister of mine," he said, "is one of the many things I
am going to tell you about after I have talked to your grandmother."