or two at a time, the passengers disappeared, until she and her mother
were left alone in the car. The conductor and the brakeman, as they passed
through, looked at them with renewed interest: it was evident now that
they were going through to the terminus of the road.

"Goin' through, be ye?" said the conductor. "It'll be dark when we get in;
an' it's beginnin' to rain. 'S anybody comin' to meet ye?"

"No," said Mercy, uneasily. "Will there not be carriages at the depot? We
are going to the hotel. I believe there is but one."

"Well, there may be a kerridge down to-night, an' there may not: there's
no knowin'. Ef it don't rain too hard, I reckon Seth'll be down."

Mercy's sense of humor never failed her. She laughed heartily, as she
said,--

"Then Seth stays away, does he, on the nights when he would be sure of
passengers?"

The conductor laughed too, as he replied,---

"Well, 'tisn't quite so bad's that. Ye see this here road's only a piece
of a road. It's goin' up through to connect with the northern roads; but
they 've come to a stand-still for want o' funds, an' more 'n half the
time I don't carry nobody over this last ten miles. Most o' the people
from our town go the other way, on the river road. It's shorter, an' some
cheaper. There isn't much travellin' done by our folks, anyhow. We're a
mighty dead an' alive set up here. Goin' to stay a spell?" he continued,
with increasing interest, as he looked longer into Mercy's face.