They were coming nearer to all the Hopes. A hard little smile settled about her lips. How queer they should have called it Hope, this dead and alive place, where hope could be so easily crushed? Would she abandon hope when she entered?
They steamed into the station, backed a little for some cause, then came forward again. She was on the off-side so she need not look out of the window. She waited for the small procession to pass out of the aisle, then she picked up her satchel and her precious box. Mr. Warfield stood watching, and her heart beat more freely. He took her satchel when the conductor had helped her down, and studied her face eagerly.
"I began to wonder if you were on the train. Are you tired? It is a long journey."
The friendly voice seemed to restore her.
"Not especially tired," she answered slowly.
They walked on in silence, but a question trembled about her lips.
"Were you tremendously surprised? Of course, one couldn't give particulars in a telegram."
"Why--yes, after believing him dead all these years. Is he--is he well?"
"Yes, I think so. Mrs. Dayton said he had not changed very much. He is fifty-four and looks seventy. But, oh, the learning! He certainly has 'ransacked the ages.'"
"And I suppose it will seem strange to him to have a big girl?" There was a little falter in Helen's voice, and she flushed and paled.
"Well--he almost expected you had gone through college," and Mr. Warfield gave his shoulders a shrug. "I can tell you he has no faith in modern education. And I do believe he would rather have you forty than sixteen."
"I am glad to be only sixteen," Helen returned with decision. "Life is a splendid thing and youth is its garden of growth, and I am more than satisfied to be still in the lovely garden."
She held her head up very straight, and the poise of her shoulders was fine and vigorous. She would not be made old for anybody. She would not hurry through any sweet year of her life.
"There will be some clashing," thought Mr. Warfield. "And I do believe she will win."
"When did he come?" she asked presently. "And where has he been all these years?"
"The last year in the British Museum. Before that buried in the ruins of the lost cities of the Bible, read now by cylinders and tablet plates and inscriptions on stone. Well, it _is_ wonderful to know so much, to be able to reconstruct dead and gone ages. He reached here four or five days ago and surprised the Mulfords; came over here and engaged board when he heard you were on the eve of return; went up to New York and reached here last night."