For perhaps half an hour she kept the tears back bravely enough; but as
she rode on, and realized more and more deeply what it all meant, she
could control herself no longer, and burst into a paroxysm of weeping.

She was sitting next the window, and, as there were few passengers, no
one was in the seat with her.

But when she raised her head, exhausted by her outburst of tears, a
burly red-faced man sat beside her.

"Come, come, little one, what's it all about?" he said.

His tone was kind, but his personality was not pleasant, and Marjorie
felt no inclination to confide in him.

"Nothing, sir," she said, drawing as far away from him as possible.

"Now, now, little miss, you can't cry like that, and then say there's
nothing the matter."

Marjorie wanted to rebuke his intrusion, but she didn't know exactly
what to say, so she turned toward the window and resolutely kept looking
out.

The trees and fields flying by were not very comforting. Every mile took
her farther away from her dear ones, for they _were_ dear, whether
related to her or not.

She pressed her flushed cheeks against the cool window pane. She was too