The girl whose lot has been cast in narrow places, and whose youth has known few relaxations, should take heart at the thought of the future.  There is a good time coming!  However long be the lane, the turning must eventually be reached; and then-ah, then, what zest of delight, what whole-hearted, unqualified enjoyment!

If Ruth and Mollie Farrell had been in the habit of paying half a dozen visits a year,-if, indeed, they had even once before started off together on pleasure bent, would they have hailed every incident of the journey with the delight which they experienced to-day?  Not a bit of it!

They would have grumbled at the wait on the platform, at the stoppages of the train at country stations, at the draught from the window, the banging of the door, the constant requests for tickets.  They would have yawned and lolled back in their corners, and eventually shut their eyes and fallen asleep, regardless of the scenes through which they were passing.

As it was, every fresh stop was a delight.  They beamed at the porter who collected their luggage, paid for return tickets with the complacence of millionaires, and thought it lucky that there were ten minutes to spare before the arrival of the train.  They tried each other’s weight, to the delight of the onlookers; put a penny in every available slot, and made a reckless expenditure in penny magazines.  Last, and greatest luxury of all, Ruth actually ordered a tea-basket to be handed into the carriage at a half-way station; one basket to do duty for two, but still a deliberate extravagance, when refreshments had been provided from home; and oh, dear me, how delicious it was to be extravagant for once!

When the train came in, one porter dashed forward to secure window-seats in an empty carriage, another hurried up with rugs and handbags; groups of people standing upon the platform looked after the two girls with kindly glances; everybody seemed kind and interested, as though understanding the nature of their expedition, and wishing them good-speed.

They sat opposite to each other, gazing out of their respective windows, or making an affectation of reading the magazines which lay littered about the seat; but the end was always the same, their eyes met in irrepressible smiles, and they began to talk once more.

Real life was so much more interesting than romance!

“I feel so very Lucille-y!” Mollie declared “Travelling on pleasure, with a tea-basket coming to meet me!  It was an inspiration of yours to order it, Ruth!  I shall be grateful to you to the end of my life!  Let’s talk about what we shall do to-night...  Let’s guess who will be there, and what they will be like.  The lady chaperon, now!  Should you think that the presence of a chaperon implied that there would be young men in the party?  I hope there are.”

“So do I,” assented Ruth frankly.  “But I fancy that they are more likely to be old.  Some nieces and nephews of Aunt Edna’s, about mother’s age, perhaps-middle-aged couples, with caps and spectacles.  How will you feel if we are the only young people there?”

“I refuse to imagine anything so ghastly!  The couples may have children, mayn’t they?  I imagine a charming girl who has no sisters, and who will adopt us as her dearest friends, and ask us to stay with her.  I rather think she will be dark, and wear eyeglasses, and have a brother who is musical, and has a tenor voice.  Then there will be another man-Sir Somebody or other, who has a big estate in the county.  He will be very superior at first, and take no notice of us, but in the end he will be conquered by our modest charms and become a devoted admirer.  Perhaps there may be some couples, but they will be young and festive, and the chaperon will be a dear old thing with side-ringlets, who will let us do as we like, and take our part with the old man.  That sounds about the right thing, doesn’t it?”

Ruth smiled happily.

“Ah, well! whoever we meet, I am going to enjoy myself.  A change, a change-that’s what I wanted.  Everything will be different, and there’s a world of refreshment in that alone.  How thankful I am that Uncle Bernard asked us both, Mollie!  It’s half the fun to talk things over together.”

She lay back in her corner, and gazed out of the window once more, smiling dreamily as a whirl of thoughts flew through her mind.  What would have happened before she travelled once more past these flying landmarks?  What new friendships would be formed-what experiences undergone-what matters of importance revealed?

Life seemed all to lie ahead; yet from time to time her thoughts drifted back unconsciously to Donald Maclure, and lingered on the memory.  She had not seen him since the eventful afternoon, but Eleanor had conveyed his good wishes for a happy visit, and her manner showed she was in ignorance of what had occurred.

Ruth was grateful for a silence which left her friendship untouched, and her thoughts of the doctor were gentle and kindly.

“But I couldn’t-I couldn’t!” she said to herself excusingly.  “I don’t want to marry anyone yet.  I just want to be young and happy, and have a good time!”

At the half-way station the tea-basket made its appearance, and the girls sat side by side taking turns at the cup, and nibbling at bread-and-butter and plum-cake like two happy children out for a holiday, which in good truth they were.

They made a pretty picture, and more than one of the passengers upon the platform cast admiring glances as they passed by.  So far, the carriage had been empty, except for themselves; but, just as the train was preparing to leave the junction, a young man turned the handle of the door, threw a bag on the seat, and leapt in after it.  He was on the point of seating himself in the place which Ruth had just vacated, but, seeing the scattered papers, checked himself, and took possession of the further corner, while the sisters studied him furtively from time to time.

He was tall, he was handsome, he was probably about thirty years of age, and he looked thoroughly bored and out of temper.  After one casual glance at the pretty sisters, he unfolded a newspaper, and turned from page to page seeking for some item of interest.  His eyes were blue, he was clean-shaven, his nose was aquiline, and his nostrils were arched, and had a trick of dilation.

“Like a high-bred horse, who wouldn’t like the bridle a single bit,” was Mollie’s comment, as she turned back to the window; for, after all, the unknown landscape through which the train was now passing was more absorbing than the appearance of a stranger who took so little interest in herself.

She gazed and whispered, and dreamed afresh, until at last the name of a familiar station gave warning that the journey was nearing its end.  In another ten minutes the train was due to reach Nosely, and in the interval there was much to be done.  Ruth solemnly lifted down the aged dressing-bag, which dated from her mother’s youth, and, with a furtive glance at the stranger in the corner, took out a looking-glass and carefully surveyed her hair, pulling it out here, tucking it in there, patting it into position with those deft little touches which come naturally to a girl, but which seem so mysterious to a masculine observer.

The young man in the corner glanced across the carriage with an expression of lordly amusement at the foibles of a member of the weaker sex; and there was even worse to come, for when Mollie, in her turn, had arranged her hair, a cloth brush was produced to remove the dust of travel, and two pairs of well-worn dogskin gloves were thrown into the bag, and replaced by others immaculately new.

Mollie was absolutely without embarrassment in these attentions to her toilet, but it required a little resolution on Ruth’s part to ignore the stranger’s presence.  Only the reflection, “We will never see him again!” supported her through the critical moments during which she trained a fascinating little curl into position on her temple, conscious meantime of a steady scrutiny from behind the newspaper.

It was something of a shock to see the stranger rise from his seat a moment later, and begin making those preparations which showed that he also was approaching his destination; but, although he alighted at Nosely Station, he had disappeared from sight while the girls were still looking after their luggage, and when they took their seats in the carriage which was waiting to convey them to the Court there was no sign of him on platform or road.

“That’s a comfort!” remarked Mollie thankfully.  “I am glad he did not see where we were going.  How superior he looked when we were prinking, Ruth!  I don’t like him a bit-do you?”

“Oh, I don’t know-I can’t think!  I’m Berengaria, Mollie!  I never was a poor girl travelling third-class, and changing her gloves at the last moment!  I must have been a duchess in my last incarnation, for I feel so thoroughly at home in an atmosphere of luxury!” sighed Ruth, leaning back against the cushions, and glancing languidly from side to side.  “Our luggage is following behind in the cart.  I hope it will arrive soon, for I want to change my blouse.  I suppose we shall have tea in the hall with the rest of the house-party, as they do in books, but I hope they won’t be assembled when we enter.  I should feel awful walking in, and knowing that they were all staring and criticising our appearance, wouldn’t you?”

Mollie laughed gaily.

“Not a bit.  I’d criticise, too, and shake hands high up-like this-and be pleasant and condescending.  We are Uncle Bernard’s nearest relations remember, and the guests of honour...  Now, we are beginning to go up the hill!  You remember mother said there was a long, winding hill, and at the top to the left stood the lodge gates.  Don’t talk!  I don’t want to miss a single thing.”

So each girl stared steadily out of her window as the horses slowly mounted the hill path.  For the first few hundred yards there were hedges on either side, and beyond them a wide, uneven landscape; then came a little village, grouped round a square “green,” with all the picturesque accessories of church, ivy-covered parsonage, thatched roofs, and duck-pond, which travellers look for in a well-conducted English village.  This passed, there was another climb upwards, a wider view of the valley beneath, and finally a sharp turn to the left, and a long drive leading to the greystone Court, whose beauties photographs had made familiar.

The butler threw open the door as the carriage stopped, and the travellers thrilled with excitement as they crossed the threshold.  First a square vestibule, then the great hall itself, stretching the whole length of the wing, and turning to the right by the foot of the staircase.

The girls’ eyes turned in a flash to the tapestry on the walls, and the wooden portraits of ancestors; but besides these historic relics there were many articles belonging to a later and more luxurious age.  Carved oak tables, laden with books and magazines; chairs and lounges of every description; a fireplace brilliant with beaten copper and soft green tiles; leather screens shielding cosy corners; cabinets of china and curios.

It was even more imposing than imagination had painted it; but-there was no one there!  No Uncle Bernard to speak a word of greeting; no flutter of silken skirts belonging to nice girls who had no sisters, and were dying to adopt other nice girls without delay; no scent of cigarettes smoked by interesting young men, who might have sisters or might not, but who would certainly be pleased to welcome Berengaria and Lucille!

Ruth had knitted her dark brows, and drawn herself stiffly erect; Mollie was prepared to smile in benign patronage on less important guests.  It was a trifle disconcerting to see no one at all but a little, black-robed lady, who came hurriedly forward as they approached the staircase and stammered a nervous greeting.

“Miss Farrell!  Miss Mary!  I hope you have had a pleasant journey.  I am Mrs Wolff.  Mr Farrell was kind enough to ask me-yes!  I hope you are not cold.  Your uncle thought you would like to have tea in your own room.  It will be brought up to you at once.  Mr Farrell desired me to say that he wished to see you both in the library at half-past five.  Shall I take you upstairs at once?  We have given you one room-a very large one; but if you prefer to have two separate ones, it can easily be arranged-yes!”

The girls protested that they wished to be together, and followed their guide up the broad staircase to a room on the first story, where the curtains were already drawn, and a cosy tea-table spread before the fire.  Mrs Wolff had called it large, and she might truthfully have used a more emphatic word, for what had originally been the best bedroom in the house had been, like the drawing-room beneath, enormously enlarged by the addition of a curved, mullioned window, the entire width of the floor.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine!  Nine dear little windows!” counted Mollie rapturously, as the door closed behind the figure of the lady chaperon.  “What a view we shall have to-morrow morning, Ruth!  Sofas, armchairs, writing-tables, two long mirrors to show the set of our skirts-this is a room after my own heart!  I shall have one exactly like it when I marry my duke!”

“But I didn’t expect to have tea in it, all the same,” Ruth objected, as she took off her hat and jacket.  “The house feels very quiet and deserted.  If we hadn’t uncle’s own word for it, I should think there was no one here except ourselves.  He might have come to meet us himself!  It seems so cold to leave us to strangers!”

“You will be disappointed, my dear, if you expect warmth from Uncle Bernard.  My short interview taught me so much, at least.  But he wants to see us at half-past five, Ruth.  I’ll prophesy something-he is going to talk to us about the `important matters’!  It would be just like him to explain his position before we have been an hour in the house, so that there can be no misunderstanding.  I’m right-I know I am!  We are on the eve of solving the mystery!”

Ruth shivered, and drew closer to the fire.

“Don’t make me nervous.  It will be bad enough when it comes to the point, without thinking of it beforehand!” she cried.

And it was all the easier to change the conversation, as at that moment a maid entered with a tea-tray and a plate of hot, buttered scones.

Tea after a journey is always a most enjoyable meal, and when it was over the girls made as careful a toilet as could be managed with the materials at hand, the heavier luggage not having yet made its appearance.  Shortly before half-past five a tap came to the door, and a maid entered with a double request.

“I have come to show you the way to the library, miss; and if you would kindly give me your keys before you go, I will have your boxes unpacked.  What dresses would you like to wear for dinner?”

The horror of that moment was never to be forgotten.  Before Ruth’s eyes there arose, as in a vision, the patches on the under-sleeves of her morning blouse, the faded dressing-gown, the darns, and make-shifts and pitiful little contrivances of poverty.  Her cheeks flamed before the sharp eyes of the abigail, and then flamed again with scorn at her own folly.

“It is all neat and clean and tidy.  I won’t be ashamed of it!” she told herself angrily, as she turned to search for her keys.

But the evening-dresses!  The next moment with a mingling of relief and irritation, she heard Mollie’s unabashed reply-

“Oh, we have only black dresses!  We will wear the net over-skirts, please!”

Just like Mollie, to wear her best clothes on the first possible occasion, instead of prudently storing them up for a special need!  But it was too late to protest; already the maid was leading the way onward.  The all-important interview was at hand!