"Of course it is! Now, Agatha, pray don't be conjuring up dangers so early in the journey, or you will never get to the end. Come, let us get on board! The train will start in a minute!" The speakers were two of a little party of children who stood on the platform of the little station of Greenbrier, waiting to take the train. Agatha Bower, who had asked the question, was a pretty, pale little girl, about thirteen years old, dressed in deep mourning. She was a peculiar-looking child, with large dark eyes and long eyelashes, while her hair was of a pale yellow, almost too light to be called golden, and curled in close, short curls under her little black hat and crape veil. She was very small…
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