CHAPTER XII

JANET'S PASSENGER

Janet left the house by the cellar window instead of the easier way. It would be hard to explain her reasons, but it was noticeable that when she had safely climbed out and stood on the ground by the window, she leaned over and picked up something and put it away hastily in the pocket of her dress. A great many years were to pass before she showed it to another soul.

"Come along, Clinker," she said briskly, as she went to the shed. "It's high time we were starting." She jumped into the cart, and Clinker, only too delighted to start for home, set off at a brisk pace.

It was a long way by road back to the village, and it was dusk before they neared it. As they came within sight of the railroad station Janet heard a train pulling in, and remembering Clinker's dislike for locomotives she slowed up to wait until it left the station.

It was the train from Boston, and she could not help wishing that Mrs. Todd and Peter were on it.

When the last puff of the engine was lost in the distance, she drove past the station very slowly. Of course there was no sign of Mrs. Todd or Peter, and she drove on, disappointed in spite of herself. A short stretch of wood made the road quite dark ahead of her for a way. Clinker pricked up his ears as they entered it but Janet did not pay any attention to him and was therefore thoroughly startled when a voice, coming apparently from nowhere, called:

"Wait a minute there, will you!"

She pulled Clinker to a sudden stop and waited. A man walked out of the shadows and came up to the cart.

"I beg your pardon," he said, taking off his hat. "I didn't see it was a lady driving."

"Well, but what difference does that make?" Janet answered awkwardly. "Won't I do?"

The man laughed and showed a set of the whitest teeth Janet had ever seen.

"Well, as a matter of fact," he explained in his low voice, "I was going to ask for a lift."

Janet looked at him for a minute and decided she liked him, and therefore it would not be necessary to treat him the way she usually treated strangers.

"Why can't I give you one?" she asked, laughing too.

"Well, now, that's mighty nice of you, and I'm very much obliged," he said. "My bag is a little too heavy to make walking any fun." He got in with surprising quickness, and Janet started Clinker by a word.

"That's a mighty fine horse you've got there," he said quietly.

"Yes, isn't he a beauty! His name's Clinker," Janet replied. "He doesn't belong to me, though. I only wish he did."

They were out of the wood by now, and she turned to look at her passenger. He was, to judge from the way he had to pull his knees up, a very tall man and certainly he was handsome. His face was burned a dark tan, and his eyes were set far apart and deep in his head. His hat covered most of his hair, but Janet knew it was brown like his eyes. There were lines at his temples that proved, if proof were necessary, that he laughed a good deal. He had big broad shoulders and nice long lean hands, that looked as though he could do almost anything with them.

"Well?" he asked, laughing, and Janet realized she had been staring.

"I really couldn't help it, you see," she apologized, very much confused. "Why, I've forgotten to ask you where you wanted to go?" she added.

"To a hotel if there is one," the man replied.

"Oh, but there isn't," Janet laughed. "We have a boarding house where most every one stays. The post mistress keeps it, but I'm afraid you won't like it very much."

The man considered for a minute or so, and then smiled and shrugged.

"Then I must take the chance of being mistaken for a tramp in these dusty clothes and go straight home."

"Where's home?" Janet inquired. "I don't like to be inquisitive, but we are almost to Main Street now."

"Not at all, I didn't realize I hadn't introduced myself. I'm Tom Page; perhaps you know my little sister Janet."

Whatever Janet did no one will ever know, but Clinker, and he showed his disapproval of it by almost jumping over the shafts. If Tom had not caught the reins and made him come to order he might have succeeded in running away.

"Well, well, what happened?" he inquired, when Clinker was walking quietly again. "I didn't see anything to frighten the animal, did you?"

"I--I did it," Janet gasped. "Can't you see! I'm Janet, and you--oh, I know I'm dreaming."

"You!" It was Tom's turn to be surprised. "Why, you can't be. Janet is just a youngster and you are a very grown up young person."

"But I'm Janet just the same, and, well--how do you do, Tom; I'm very glad to see you." She held out her hand.

"Bless your heart!" Tom put his arm around her and in spite of Clinker gave her a hearty kiss. "What luck for us to meet like this!"--he laughed--"and I had pictured it so differently, and you are just about fifty times as nice as I thought you were going to be."

"Well," Janet sighed happily, "you certainly are heaps nicer than _I_ thought you were going to be."

They turned the corner by the rectory, and Clinker, without asking any one's permission, turned in at the gate.

"We will have to leave the horse here," Janet explained. "He belongs to Mrs. Todd. I was just doing an errand for her."

"Mrs. Todd." Tom was thoughtful. "I seem to remember her--oh, yes,"--and he laughed. "I'd like to meet her."

"But she's in Boston," Janet replied. "She's only visiting at the rectory."

"Well, you'd better let me out anyway," Tom suggested. "I don't want to meet anybody to-night. You rustle along, and I'll wait here." He jumped out, and Janet hurried to the barn, where the hired man was waiting to unhitch Clinker.

Mrs. Blake came out on to the back porch.

"Is that you, Janet?" she called.

"Yes, Mrs. Blake, I was a little delayed in getting home. I hope you haven't been worried," Janet replied.

"Only a little uneasy," Mrs. Blake confessed; "won't you come in and see the girls?"

"Oh, not to-night, thank you. I must really hurry home." Janet spoke with so much concern that Mrs. Blake did not urge her, and after a hurried good night she was able to join Tom.

"It's quite a long walk home," she apologized. "I wish I could have driven all the way. Won't you let me help you with that bag!"

Tom laughed his hearty, good-natured laugh, and caught his little sister by the arm.

"You little featherweight! I could carry you and the bag and never know you were there. But we'll take it easy, and that will give us more time to talk. First of all, how is grandmother?"

"Oh, she's well; that is, of course, she is in bed always, but I think she feels all right otherwise," Janet replied.

"Yes, of course. I was forgetting. Let me see, who else is in the house?"

"Why, just Martha and me; that's all."

"Any friends? Your letter sounded as though you were lonely."

"I am sometimes," Janet confessed; "that is, I used to be. Lately I haven't had time because there's been Peter and Mrs. Todd."

"Who's Peter?" Tom inquired. "The boy that was afraid of snakes?"

"Certainly not," Janet denied hotly; "that was Harry Waters."

Tom started to ask a question, thought better of it, and said instead:

"How about girls?"

Janet did not reply at once. Her own mind was far from made up on the subject, and it was difficult to answer Tom.

"I don't know any girls, really," she replied slowly. "The ones I have met didn't like me much, and I didn't like them. When I wrote that letter to you I thought I wanted a girl friend more than anything else in the world, but now I guess boys are better; anyway, they don't say mean things behind your back."

"All girls are not alike, little sister of mine. There are lots of girls in the world that are just like you and you'd like them, even better than you like boys."

There was a long pause, and finally Janet said:

"Tom, do you remember what I said in my letter about wishing you were a sister instead of a brother?"

"Even to the exact words,"--Tom laughed. "You said that I would be much more of a comfort to you as a sister. That's what made me come on at once. I wanted to prove that brothers are some use in the world."

"Don't tease," Janet begged. "I only reminded you of it so that I could say I was sorry."

"But you would like to have a sister too, wouldn't you?" Tom asked anxiously.

"Oh, of course,"--Janet laughed. "I'd like to have one too, but not in place of you."

"Then _that's_ all right,"--Tom gave her arm a tight squeeze. "Isn't that our house?" he inquired, as the light from Mrs. Page's room twinkled in the distance.

"Why, yes, but how did you know?" Janet asked, surprised.

"Oh, I was ten years old before I left for school," Tom explained. "You were a tiny baby then."

Janet lapsed into another thoughtful silence.

"Tom," she said seriously, "why didn't you ever come back!"

Tom's voice was very gentle as he answered her:

"That, little sister of mine," he said, "is one of the many things I am going to tell you about after I have talked to your grandmother."