"Lewiston!" he shouted at last.
Anne started. It was her own home station. As in a dream, she saw in the
twilight the familiar red road shambling over the hills, the dingy
little station with men and boys loafing on the platform, the houses
scattered here and there among trees and gardens. It all came back to
her. This was the route she and her mother had often travelled. A little
way off was the water-tank set in a clump of willows by the roadside.
'Lewis Hall' was on the hill just beyond. In the deepening twilight,
she could not see the square house among the trees.
A great longing for home possessed her. She slipped past Martha dozing
with Arthur asleep in her lap; hardly knowing what she did, she ran to
the rear of the car. The train was about to stop at the tank. Anne put
her hand on the door-knob. It resisted. A lump came in her throat. Again
she tried the knob. This time it yielded to her pressure. She stepped on
the platform and closed the door behind her. As the train jerked and
stood still, she almost fell but she quickly recovered herself and
scrambled down the steps.
She stood in a well-remembered thicket of willows. A few steps away was
a footpath--how it all came back to her!--winding among the willows.
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