posters in fisher and fox with small blue toques, like the girls on the train, brothers in raccoon gray, mothers in mink and fathers in ulsters waved welcome to the college people home for the holidays. The blizzard, with its blowing cold, increased the heartiness of handclasps and kisses. They shouted and whispered, laughed and linked arms. Christmas week and home again! Cold, and snow and ice sheathing the steps and flanks of the first cars of the Century which stood, in its four arrived sections on four side-by-side tracks, with two holiday sections yet to pound in; two more train-loads of college people and business men to be welcomed home. Christmas vacations and business.
The business groups broke up at the gates with elaborate handshakings and over-insisted repetitions of regard; and they separated, never looking back at one another.
Ben's mother and sister met him and Jay. They wanted to run Jay home in their car, but Jay told them he was bound for the office.
"I'll toss your bag in at your house," Ben offered; and Jay gave it to Ben before he remembered that, likely, he would not sleep at home that night; perhaps never again.
Ben had not intruded further into the affair of the telegram; and he referred to it for the first time since he had delivered it. "Want me to do anything for you?" he asked.
Jay said, "No; thanks." Mrs. Crosby invited, "Will you dine with us to-morrow?"
"Can't tell I'll be in town," said Jay.
