Eleanor H. Porter

“ On the whole, the journey to Gilmoreville was accomplished with less trouble than Sister Sue had feared that it would be. The shifting panorama out the window sufficiently occupied John Gilmore's attention for more than half the way. After that he dozed fitfully in his chair, and at no time did he give any sort of trouble.
Gordon read, and spent more of his time in the smoking-car than was quite pleasing to his sister Sue. May also read for a while; but as time passed she grew restless; and, after an apprehensive glance at her father, she began to talk to her sister.
"Will anybody meet us?" ”

“ To Sister Sue, holding her breath outside her father's door, the one seemed hardly less terrible than the other.
At that moment from the room beyond came the sound of a clock's striking nine; and with a little choking sob the girl pulled a key from the pocket of her dress and hurriedly fitted it into the lock; for some days now John Gilmore had been very literally a prisoner, his daughter not daring to trust his rapidly increasing activity to the unrestricted freedom of an unlocked door.
"Well, Father, are you all ready?" she called gayly. "The car is here. ”

“ For another minute the younger girl fidgeted in her seat; then she began to talk again.
"What'll you wager half of Gilmoreville isn't at the station to meet us? If Granny Preston knows when we're coming, the whole town does. That's certain. And they'll come and stare, and stare, just as they do when the circus conies to town."
"May!" Sister Sue's attention was manifestly captured now.
"Well, they will. You know they will. We were rich; now we're poor. Something awful's the matter with Father. He looks like a man; he acts like a child. They want to see him. They want to see us. ”