"Oh, Mrs. Gray, you can't imagine how happy I feel!" went on Grace, her
eyes eloquent with emotion. "Next to home, I love Overton better than any
other place on earth. I'm so glad we are going to stay at Wayne Hall, and
that Mrs. Elwood is to meet us."

A long shrill whistle, a creaking and groaning of protesting iron wheels,
the stentorian cry of "Overton! Overton!" and then a sudden jarring stop.
Grace reached to the rack overhead for Mrs. Gray's small leather bag,
allowing the dainty little old lady to precede her down the aisle which
was practically clear. Apparently they were the only Overton passengers in
that car. She stood still on the top step of the train until Mrs. Gray had
been safely landed on the platform by the smiling porter, then, disdaining
his helping hand, ran down the steps with a joyful skip that caused her
companion to say indulgently, "You'll never grow up, Grace, and I'm glad
of it. I can't become reconciled to the fact that Nora and Jessica are
brides-to-be and that Anne's art is making her terribly serious. It's a
joy to my old age to see you frisk about as happily as you did when you
were a little thing in short white skirts with two long braids of fair
hair hanging down your back."

"I don't really feel a bit older than I did then," confessed Grace.
"Sometimes I'm almost ashamed of my enthusiasm. It seems as though nice
things are always happening to me, and this summer pilgrimage of just we
two is the nicest of all."

They were walking slowly across the deserted platform now, and Grace was
keeping a sharp look-out on all sides for the short, comfortable figure of
Mrs. Elwood.