“Oh, we ’re sure to start soon,” said Nora, soothingly; and just as she spoke there entered the car a young girl whom the two friends immediately recognized.
“Why, Angelina,” they exclaimed, “what in the world are you doing here?” That is, Brenda made the exclamation, and Nora echoed it.
The young Portuguese girl (for it was certainly Manuel’s sister) smiled pleasantly at the two girls, but she showed no surprise. It was rather a principle of hers never to seem surprised.
“Such a narrow escape!” she said, plaintively; “why, I’m trembling now just like a leaf.”
The girls looked at her in astonishment. “It was n’t you, was it, who had the accident?” asked Nora.
“Not exactly,” she replied, “although I feel about the same as if I was. You see, I saw it all.”
“Well, the girl is n’t killed, is she?”
“No, no, I think not,” replied Angelina, slowly. “But dear me, it was terrible. She looked as if she was being drawn right under the engine. I don’t see why she was n’t cut in ten-inch pieces.” And Angelina seemed fairly to gloat over the possibility of the horror.
“Oh, but they say that she was hardly bruised, only shaken up and frightened. I hope that that will be a warning to you, Angelina, not to loiter near the tracks. How do you happen to be here, so far from Shiloh?” Nora spoke as severely as she could, for she really could not understand why Angelina should be so far from home.
“Well, you see. Miss Gostar, it’s very hard for me to
