Publisher's Synopsis
"Are they never going to turn up?""It's almost four now!""They'll be left till the six-thirty!""Oh, don't alarm yourself! The valley train always waits for the express.""It's coming in now!""Oh, good, so it is!""Late by twenty minutes exactly!""Stand back there!" yelled a porter, setting down a box with a slam, and motioning the excited, fluttering group of girls to a position of greater safety than the extreme edge of the platform."Llangarmon Junction! Change for Glanafon and Graigwen!"Snorting and puffing, as if in agitated apology for the tardiness of its arrival, the train came steaminginto the station, the drag of its brakes adding yet another item of noise to the prevailing babel.Intending passengers clutched bags and baskets; fathers of families gave a last eye to the luggage;mothers grasped children firmly by the hand; a distracted youth, seeking vainly for his portmanteau, upset a stack of bicycles with a crash; while above all the din and turmoil rose the strident, raspingvoice of a book-stall boy, crying his selection of papers with ear-splitting zeal.From the windows of the in-coming express waved seventeen agitated pocket-handkerchiefs, andthe signal was answered by a counter-display of cambric from the twenty girls hustled back by aninspector in the direction of the weighing-machine."There's Helen!""And Ruth, surely!""Oh! where's Marjorie?""There! Can't you see her, with Doris?""That's Mamie, waving to me!""What's become of Kathleen?"One moment more, and the neat school hats of the new-comers had swelled the group of similarschool hats already collected on the platform; ecstatic greetings were exchanged, urgent questions 3asked and hasty answers given, and items of choice information poured forth with the utmostvolubility of which the English tongue is capable. Urged by brief directions from a mistress incharge, the chattering crew surged towards a siding, and made for a particular corridor carriagemarked "Reserved". Here handbags, umbrellas, wraps, and lunch-baskets were hastily stowed awayin the racks, and, Miss Moseley having assured herself that not a single lamb of her flock was leftbehind, the grinning porter slammed the doors, the green flag waved, and the local train, longoverdue, started with a jerk for the Craigwen Valley.Past the grey old castle that looked seawards over the estuary, past the little white town ofLlangarmon, with its ancient walls and fortified gates, past the quay where the fishing smacks werelying idly at anchor and a pleasure-steamer was unloading its human cargo, past the long stretch ofsandy common, where the white tents of the Territorials evoked an outcry of interest, then upalongside the broad tidal river towards where the mountains, faint and misty, rose shouldering oneanother till they merged into the white nebulous region of the cloud-flecked sky. Those lucky oneswho had secured window seats on the river side of the carriage were loud in their acclamations ofsatisfaction as familiar objects in the landscape came into sight.
