The train stopped with a jerk, started with another jerk, and stopped
again with a third that made them catch their breaths and hold fast to
the seats.

"Chazy Junction, seh," said the colored porter, entering in haste to
seize their bags.

They alighted on a small wooden platform and their hand baggage was
deposited beside them. Their trunks were being tumbled off a car
far ahead.

Then the whistle screamed, the train gave a jerk and proceeded on its
way, and Uncle John, his nieces and their maid, found themselves
confronting a solitary man in shirtsleeves, who yawned languidly, thrust
his hands in his pockets and stared at the strangers unmoved.

It was six o'clock. The July sun was set in a clear sky, but the air was
cool and pleasant. Uncle John glanced around with the eye of a practiced
traveler. Back of the station was a huddle of frame buildings set in a
hollow. The station-tender was the only person in sight.

"Isn't there a carriage to meet us?" asked Louise, in a slightly frigid
tone.

"Seems not," replied her uncle. Then he addressed the native. "Can you
tell us, sir, where Millville is?" he asked.

"Sev'n mile up the road."

"Thank you kindly. Is there any carriage to be had?"