The next morning was warm and sunny for November, and the old man
started for Harrowtown.

"Gideon," called Mrs. Randal as he walked slowly down the road, "be sure
to take tight hold of the railing, when you get in and out of the cars."

"I'll be careful, Martha," and with one more "good bye" wave of his
hand, the old man hurried on to take the stage, which was to carry him
to the station. But misfortune met him at the very outset. The stage was
heavily loaded, and on the way, one of the wheels broke down; this
caused such a delay that Mr. Randal missed the morning train, and the
next did not come for several hours.

It was afternoon when he finally started. He became anxious and weary
from long waiting, and after three stations were passed, he became
nervous, and worried.

"How long before we reach Harrowtown?" he inquired, stopping the busy
conductor.

"At half past eight."

[Illustration: "_How long before we reach Harrowtown?_"]

Another question was upon Mr. Randal's lips, but the conductor was gone.
"Not reach there until evening!" he exclaimed to himself in dismay, "and
pitch dark, for there's no moon now; I shall not know where to go!"

Presently the conductor passed again. "Mr. Conductor, will you kindly