she usually met at her uncles' homes in Chicago,—young men who had possessed from birth assured places and definite advantages. But this morning, as the train neared Escanaba, and she and the "captain" stood together on the platform of the Pullman, she received quite a different impression; others had not insured advantage to this young man; he had had to do for himself, she was quite sure; he had known hard work and meager living here in the north.
She watched him as he rubbed the frost from the glass of the door and then, after looking about to see if she minded and receiving her shake of head in return, he stooped and lifted the platform stop and opened the Pullman door. The keen, cold wind swept in, scented of the forests, and away to the east lay, vaguely, the sheen of the ice-sheet over Green Bay. The "captain" drew a deep breath of air and stepped back a little, his shoulders pulling up and his hands unconsciously clenching at his sides. The train was pulling into the station now, and the porter appeared, carrying Ethel's handbag and the "captain's" suit case. The Soo train which was to continue the journey north was standing upon another track; and the porter immediately took the hand baggage to it. But Ethel walked on the platform beside the cars. The dark-haired young man had started to get on board but, after a question to the brakeman, he got down from the step and came forward near Ethel in search of the conductor.
"St. Florentin?" she heard the conductor repeat. "No; never heard of it."
"They hadn't in Chicago either," the young man said. "But I told them it was near the Straits, and they said that some one here would know."
