Among those who got off the train at Hillsborough that day was a
big, handsome youth of some twenty years. In all the crowd there
were none had ever seen him before. Dressed in the height of
fashion, he was a figure so extraordinary that all eyes observed
him as he made his way to the tavern. Trove and Polly and Mrs.
Vaughn were in that curious throng on the platform, where a depot
was being built.
"My! What a splendid-looking fellow," said Polly, as the stranger
passed,
Trove had a swift pang of jealousy that moment. Turning, he saw
Riley Brooke--now known as the "Old Rag Doll"--standing near them
in a group of villagers.
"I tell you, he's a thief," the boy heard him saying, and the words
seemed to blister as they fell; and ever after, when he thought of
them, a great sternness lay like a shadow on his brow.
"I must go," said he, calmly turning to Polly. "Let me help you
into the wagon."
When they were gone, he stood a moment thinking. He felt as if he
were friendless and alone.
"You're a giant to day," said a friend, passing him; but Trove made
no answer. Roused incomprehensibly, his heavy muscles had become
tense, and he had an odd consciousness of their power.
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