too late, reflected Marcia, for her to remedy her error in judgment. [34] But Sylvia—Jason's niece? With her coming, all the arguments Marcia had worn threadbare for and against the exposure of Jason's true character presented themselves afresh. Should she deceive the girl as she had her mother? Or should she tell her the truth? She was still pondering the question when a shrill whistle cut short her reverie. There was a puffing of steam; a grinding of brakes, the spasmodic panting of a weary engine and the train, with its single car, came to a stop beside the platform. Three passengers descended. The first was a young Portuguese woman, dark of face, and carrying a bulging bag from which protruded gay bits of embroidery. Behind her came a slender, blue-eyed girl, burdened not only with her own suit-case but with a[35] basket apparently belonging to a wee, wizened old lady who followed her. [35] "Now we must find Henry," the girl was saying in a clear but gentle voice. "Of course he'll be here. Look! Isn't that he—the man just driving up in a car? I guessed as much from your description. You need not have worried, you see. Yes, the brakeman has your bag and umbrella; and here is the kitten safe and sound, despite her crying. Goodbye, Mrs. Doane. I hope you'll have a lovely visit with your son." The little old lady smiled up at her. "Goodbye, my dear. You've taken care of me like as if you'd been my own daughter. I ain't much used to jauntin' about, an' it frets me. Are your folks here? If not, I'm sure Henry wouldn't mind—" "Oh, somebody'll turn up to meet me, Mrs. Doane. I'll be all right. Goodbye. We did have a pleasant trip down, didn't we? Traveling isn't really so bad after all." Then as Marcia watched, she saw the lithe young creature stoop suddenly and kiss the withered cheek. The next instant she was swinging up the platform. The slim figure in its well-tailored blue suit; the trimly shod feet; the small hat so provokingly tilted[36] over the bright eyes, the wealth of golden
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