How dreadful! She considered the
question till she could bear it no longer, and, slowly putting on her
own clothes, she crept downstairs, hoping as she went from room to room
that she would find Florence. She even peeped cautiously in upon her
mother, busy with her sewing, but no Florence was to be seen.
"Perhaps she has started to go home," Dimple said to herself, in real
alarm. "Oh, dear, I hope there hasn't been any train along that she
could take." She put on her hat, seized an umbrella from the rack, and
sallied forth. It was still raining hard, and as she splashed along, the
little girl was very miserable.
It was quite a walk to the railway station, and Dimple hurried her
steps, fearing she might be too late to intercept her cousin. She
entered the waiting-room of the station, and looked anxiously around. No
Florence was there. Her heart sank and she turned to go. Florence had
really meant what she said. And her aunt and cousins in Baltimore, what
would they think of her? The tears began to roll down Dimple's cheeks
as she looked up and down the long track. She did not know what to do
next. It would be so dreadful to go home and tell her mother that she
had driven her cousin away by her rudeness. She was about to turn toward
home, when she bethought herself of making some inquiry about the
trains; and she entered the waiting-room again.
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