I can pay you back, if you'll lend me enough now to buy my
ticket--and perhaps a little, a very little, more, because I mayn't find
her at once. I may have to go on somewhere else after London, though I
hope not. _Will_ you lend me some money and keep the brooch till I pay?"

"I might be prepared to do that," said the man slowly. "But you surely
don't mean to start off for London alone, in the night."

"Why not?" she argued. "There's no danger in railway trains, is there?
I've never been in one yet, but I've read lots about them in books, and
I think I shall love travelling."

"You've never been in a train!"

"No, because I was born at Grandma's house, and she never travels
anywhere, and I've always lived with her. If my father hadn't died, and
my mother hadn't--hadn't been obliged to go away when I was a baby,
probably I should have been just like other girls. But now I suppose I
must be very different, and seem stupid and queer. Every one stared as
if I were a wild animal when I was asking my way to the railway station.
But you will lend me the money, won't you, if you think the brooch is
worth it, because one of the porters told me there'd be a train for
London soon?"

"When people are making up their minds to lend money to strangers, they
always put a number of questions first," answered the man gravely, "so I
must ask you to excuse me if I catechize you a little before I engage
myself to do anything. Do you expect any one to meet you in London, Miss
MacDonald?"

"Dear me, no!" and she could not help laughing to hear herself called
"Miss MacDonald," a dignity never bestowed on her before. "I don't know
any one in London--unless my mother's there."

"Oh, indeed! But London's quite a big place, bigger a good deal than
Carlisle, you know, so you may have some difficulty in finding your
mother if you aren't sure of the address."

"She hasn't an address--I mean, I don't know it. But she's an actress on
the stage. I think she must be so beautiful and splendid that almost
every one will have heard of her, so all I will have to say is, 'Please
tell me whether Mrs. MacDonald the actress is in London?'"

"Not Mrs. Ballantree MacDonald!" This time he did look surprised.

"Ballantree was her name before she was married," the girl admitted.
"And her Christian name's Barbara. Do you know her?"

"I do, slightly," replied the man. "But I had no idea that she----" He
broke off abruptly, looking more closely than ever at