se pretended to turn the leaves of a book. Of a sudden, as
unexpectedly to herself as to her companion, she broke silence.

'Don't you think, father, that we are too much afraid of talking with
strangers?'

'Too much afraid?'

Mr. Whiston was puzzled. He had forgotten all about the incident at the
dinner-table.

'I mean--what harm is there in having a little conversation when one is
away from home? At the inn to-day, you know, I can't help thinking we were
rather--perhaps a little too silent.'

'My dear Rose, did you want to talk about beer?'

She reddened, but answered all the more emphatically.

'Of course not. But, when the first gentleman came in, wouldn't it have
been natural to exchange a few friendly words? I'm sure he wouldn't have
talked of beer to _us_'

'The _gentleman_? I saw no gentleman, my dear. I suppose he was a small
clerk, or something of the sort, and he had no business whatever to address
us.'

'Oh, but he only said good morning, and apologised for sitting at our
table. He needn't have apologised at all.'

'Precisely. That is just what I mean,' said Mr. Whiston with
self-satisfaction. 'My dear Rose, if I had been alone, I might perhaps have
talked a little, but with you it was impossible. One cannot be too careful.
A man like that will take all sorts of liberties. One has to keep such
people at a distance.

A moment's pause, then Rose spoke with unusual decision--

'I feel quite sure, father, that he would not have taken liberties. It
seems to me that he knew quite well how to behave himself.'

Mr. Whiston grew still more puzzled. He closed his book to meditate this
new problem.

'One has to lay down rules,' fell from him at length, sententiously. 'Our
position, Rose, as I have often explained, is a delicate one. A lady in
circumstances such as yours cannot exercise too much caution. Your natural
associates are in the world of wealth; unhappily, I cannot make you
wealthy. We have to guard our self-respect, my dear child. Really, it is
not _safe_ to talk with strangers--least of all at an inn. And you have
only to remember that disgusting conversation about beer!'

Rose said no more. Her father pondered a little, felt that he had delivered
his soul, and resumed the book.

The next morning they were early at the station to secure good places for
the long journey to London. Up to almost the last moment it seemed that
they would have a carriage to themselves. Then the door suddenly o