The train slackened its speed, ran for a few moments between rows of
tall, shabby brick walls, and with a long, final screech of its whistle
came to halt in the station-house. Every one made a simultaneous rush
for the door; and Katy and Mrs. Ashe, waiting to collect their books and
bags, found themselves wedged into their seats and unable to get out. It
was a confusing moment, and not comfortable; such moments never are.

But the discomfort brightened into a sense of relief as, looking out of
the window, Katy caught sight of a face exactly opposite, which had
evidently caught sight of her,--a fresh, pretty face, with light, waving
hair, pink cheeks all a-dimple, and eyes which shone with laughter and
welcome. It was Rose herself, not a bit changed during the years since
they parted. A tall young man stood beside her, who must, of course, be
her husband, Deniston Browne.

"There is Rose Red," cried Katy to Mrs. Ashe. "Oh, doesn't she look dear
and natural? Do wait and let me introduce you. I want you to know her."

But the train had come in a little behind time, and Mrs. Ashe was
afraid of missing the Hingham boat; so she only took a hasty peep
from the window at Rose, pronounced her to be charming-looking,
kissed Katy hurriedly, reminded her that they must be on the steamer
punctually at twelve o'clock the following Saturday, and was gone,
with Amy beside her; so that Katy, following last of all the
slow-moving line of passengers, stepped all alone down from the
platform into the arms of Rose Red.

"You darling!" was Rose's first greeting. "I began to think you meant
to spend the night in the car, you were so long in getting out. Well,