I do not know
how long I had slept. My hat had slipped to the floor; my heavy coils of
hair, usually difficult to keep in proper control, had unloosened by the
constant motion of the car and fallen in heavy rings about my shoulders.
I opened my eyes suddenly to find that my guardian had put away his
writing, and was standing near, regarding me, I fancied, with a look
of displeasure.
"I did not mean to fall asleep," I faltered, while I quickly coiled up my
hair, and put on my hat.
"It is my fault you slept in this public place. I had forgotten about
you."
I looked at him with an admiration almost amounting to awe, thinking how
engrossed he must have become in his own thoughts to have forgotten me so
perfectly; and then I speculated on the irony of fate in placing one so
unconventional as I under the care of a man so exceedingly fastidious.
I was standing beside him. In my excitement, when awakening, I had
started to my feet, but with difficulty maintained my position; for my
head was dizzy with the sudden start from sound sleep, together with the
unaccustomed hour for traveling. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was
past midnight. I think Mr. Winthrop noticed my weariness, for he said,
rather grimly:
"It is too bad, having you out late two nights in succession."
I remembered his gift for Mr. Bowen, and was silent.
"At the next station we will be able to change cars for New York. The
conductor tells me we shall only be compelled to wait a short time.
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