Rose of Dutcher's Coolly. Garland Hamlin

heart contracted with a sharp spasm that almost made her scream. The time had come for action – momentous, irrevocable action, like Napoleon's embarking from Elba for France.

      It was very chill and dark. She rose and groped about for a light. Her teeth chattered with cold and it seemed to her she was going to be sick. She dressed hurriedly and went down.

      John and her aunt were seated at breakfast. She slipped into her seat, white and silent. It was still dark and the lighted lamps made it seem like a midnight meal.

      John was strenuously cheerful. "We have to get up early if we get that seven o'clock train," he said.

      "Better take some coffee anyhow," urged Mrs. Diehl.

      "O, I can't eat a thing," Rose insisted.

      "Don't worry her, sis," interposed John. "She'll feel like it later."

      While John went to get the team Rose got on her things and walked about, uttering a little moaning sound, like a babe in delirium. It was terrible to hear her and Mrs. Diehl lost patience at last.

      "Stop that fuss! Good land! anybody'd think you was goin' to die dead as a hammer, the way you take on, and after all the time we've had gettin' you ready. I declare to goodness I never see such a young'un in all my born days. I will be glad to get rid of you!"

      This was good strong medicine to Rose, and she uttered no more of her grief. She punished her aunt by refusing to say good-bye at the door, which grieved John very much.

      "You folks had a tiff this morning a'ready?"

      It was cold and damp. The wind pushed against their faces like the touch of wet palms. The horses splashed along in pools of water, and out of the dim light the hills rose against the sky full of soft sprawling rain-clouds.

      They rode in silence. Rose saw no more of the splendid visions of the world. It was all dark and rainy ahead. Home, and peace, and comfort were all behind her. She was so miserable it seemed as if she must cry out, but her aunt's contemptuous words helped her to silence.

      John talked a little about the trains on the road, and the weather, but talk was an effort to him also. As he rode he thought of it all again. He felt as if he were losing his heart, but he did not waver.

      He helped her on the cars and then stooped and hugged her hard without kissing her, and so stumbled out again, while she sat white and rigid, breathing hard.

      The sun came out after a little, and covered the earth with a glory that found its way into the girl's heart. She ceased to sob, and the ache passed out of her throat, although the shadow still hung in her eyes.

      The car interested her. It seemed a palace and of enormous size. She figured out the number of people it would hold, and wondered how the seats which were turned the other way came to be so. The car was mainly occupied by men in careless clothing. Everybody seemed sleepy and unkempt. She wondered where they all came from, and so speculating, she lost something of her poignant sorrow.

      Then came one moment of quiet elation. She was going out into the world! the enormous, the incredible had happened! She was going to Madison, the state capital. The speed of the train, which seemed to her very great, aided her to realize how swiftly she was getting into the world. The fields and farms whirled by in dizzying fashion, and the whistle of the engine was like the furious, defiant neigh of a rushing horse. It was all on a scale more splendid than her dreams.

      In the midst of her exultant moment the brakeman came through and eyed her with the glare of a sex-maniac. She felt as if a hot iron had touched her flesh, and she shrank back into herself, like a scared mollusk. The man passed on, but her exultation was gone.

      She noticed that the hills grew lower as they sped southward, and queer rocks rose squarely out of the flat lands, which were covered with wild swamps of small trees, out of which long skeletons of dead pines lifted with a desolate effect.

      There were several tunnels, and every time they went through one Rose clung to the seat in terror. Some young men in the rear of the car smacked their lips to represent kisses, and laughed boisterously afterward, as if that were a very good joke indeed.

      The conductor, when he came through the next time, eyed her closely and smiled broadly. She did not understand why he should smile at her. After he had been through the car several times he came and sat down by her.

      "Nice day, ain't it? Live in Madison?"

      "No, sir," she replied, looking away. She did not want to say more, but some power made her add, "I am going to school there."

      He seemed pleased.

      "Ah, hah! Going to the university?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "O, I see." He put his knee against the back of the seat in front of her and took an easy position.

      "It's a nice town. Wish I could stop off and help you find a boarding-place."

      The brakeman, coming through, winked at the conductor as if to say: "I like your 'mash,'" and the terror and shame of her position flashed over Rose, flushing her from head to foot. Her eyes filled with angry tears, and she looked out of the window, not knowing what to do. She was so helpless here, for she was out in the world alone.

      The conductor went on serenely, knowing well how scared and angry she was.

      "Yes, sir; it's a fine little town. Great place for boating, summer or winter. You'll see a hundred ice-boats out on Monona there all at once. I've got a cousin there who has a boat. He'd be glad to take you out if I'd tell him about you."

      "I don't want to know him," she said, in what she intended to be a fierce tone, but which was a pitifully scared tone.

      The conductor saw the brakeman looking at him and in order to convey the impression that he was getting on nicely he bent forward and looked around into her face.

      "O, you'd like him first rate."

      Rose would have screamed, or burst out into some wild action had not the engine whistled. This gave the conductor an excuse to give the talk up for the moment.

      "She's a daisy and as green as grass," he said to the brakeman. Her innocence seemed to place her in his hand.

      For the next hour they persecuted the girl with their low presences. First one and then the other came along the aisle and sat down beside her. And when she put her valise there, blocking the seat, the brakeman sat on the armrest and tormented her with questions to which she gave no answer.

      Just after Pine City she heard a cool, firm woman's voice ask: "May I sit with you?"

      She looked up and made room for a handsome, middle-aged woman, in a neat traveling dress.

      "It's a shame!" she said. "I've just got in, but I saw at once how those men were torturing you. Strange no one in the car could see it and take your part."

      Rose turned to her gratefully, and laid her head on the lady's stalwart shoulder.

      "There, there, no harm done! You must learn to expect such things from some men. It would be libelous on the brutes to call them beasts." She said a great many things which Rose hardly understood, but her presence was strong and helpful. Rose liked her very much.

      "How far are you going?"

      Rose told her in a few words.

      "Ah, are you? You could not have made a better choice. Who sends you there – pardon me?"

      "Dr. Thatcher."

      "Dr. Thatcher! Well, well, how things come about. I know the Doctor very well."

      "Do you? I'm going to live there for a while."

      Rose was smiling now.

      "Well, you couldn't be more fortunate. You'll get into the most progressive home in the city."

      From this on they had a royal good time. Rose grew happier than she had been for weeks. There was something strangely masterful about this woman in spite of her sweet smile and soft gray eyes.

      When the conductor came down the aisle again she met his eye with a keen, stern glance.

      "Young man, I shall have you