"I don't see what more could happen," rejoined Linda.
What could happen was made very obvious as they stepped from the train at Boxford, for they had hardly alighted before Berkley Matthews rushed up to them. "Here you are," he cried, as if it were quite to be expected that he would meet them. "It has been a pretty bad storm and I didn't know whether you would venture or not, but I thought I'd be on the safe side. Now—"
But he had not finished his sentence when another figure loomed up in the doorway of the dimly lighted waiting-room, and who should come forward but Wyatt Jeffreys. The two men looked at one another and each gave a little embarrassed laugh. "I didn't know you were here, Jeffreys," said Berkley.
"Nor did I know you were," was the reply. "How long since you came?"
"Oh, half an hour or so. When did you get in?"
"Just at this moment. I suppose I don't know the road quite as well as you do."
"Linda, will you give me the pleasure of taking you to Sandbridge in my buggy," broke in Berkley with visible haste.
Miss Ri chuckled. "Go with him, Linda, and I'll give Mr. Jeffreys the inestimable privilege of taking me, that is, if he intends going back to-night. Perhaps you were going on by train, Mr. Jeffreys?"
"Oh, no, I came up—I came up," he was not so ready to announce his purpose as Berkley. "I thought you ladies might not be provided against the storm," he continued, "and it seemed to me that I might perhaps be of use in some way."
"And you were quite right," Miss Ri returned. "It saves me the bother of hunting up a team from the stables, or of deciding upon the other alternative of spending the night in Boxford, something I would much prefer not to do. Where is your buggy? I know the road perfectly." So Mr. Jeffreys was forced to hide whatever disappointment he might feel while Berkley bore off Linda to where his buggy, well provided with rain-proof covers, stood under shelter of the station's shed.