She waved a hand--timidly at first--to a cluster of young heads at a car window, and was a little dismayed when they waved heartily in return.

She recovered and waved at another group--less timidly this time.

Again the response was instant, and a malign power against which she strove in vain carried Winona to the train's side.

Heads were thrust forth and greetings followed, some shy and low-toned, some with feigned man-of-the-world jauntiness.
Winona was no longer Winona.

A freckled young vender with a basket halted beside her.