stockings!"

"Good sort, how-an'-ever."

"Good for a tip, eh? Wouldn't ha' thought it."

"No, but a real good-hearted 'un an' if he is a Pape."

"Never?"

"To be sure. Got me to put him in a fly for the Catholic Convent up
Westminster way."

Greta could restrain herself no longer, but burst in upon them with
twenty questions. When had the parson arrived? When had he left? Was it
in a fly? Would it go quickly? Could there be time for it to get back?

"What's your train, miss--twelve to the north?"

"Yes; will he catch it?"

"Scarce get back at twelve," said the porter. But, in spite of this
discouraging prophecy, Greta was so elated at the fresh intelligence
that she drew out her purse and gave the man five shillings. She had no
other change than two half crowns and two pennies, and in her present
elevation of soul there could be no choice, between the silver and the
copper, as to which the bearer of such news deserved.

The man stared, and then smiled, but he quickly reconciled himself to
the unexpected. With extraordinary alacrity he labeled the luggage, and
bowled off to the north train, which was already at the platform.

It was now within three minutes of midnight, and Mrs. Drayton had joined
Greta in the bustling throng on the platform.

"Oh, I feel as if a thousand hearts were all swelling and beating in my
breast at once," said Greta. "Mrs. Drayton, is it certain that he will
come? Porter, have you put the luggage in the van? Which is the
train--the left?"

"No, miss, the left's going out to make room for the local train up from
Kentish Town and Hendon. The right's your train, miss. Got your ticket,
miss?"

"Not yet. Must I get it, think you? Is the time short? Yes, I will get
two tickets myself," she added, turning to the landlady. "Then when he
comes he will have nothing to do but step into the carriage."

"You'll have to be quick, miss--train's nigh due out--only a minute,"
said the porter.

Greta's luminous eyes were peering over the heads of the people that
were about her. Then they brightened, with a flash more swift than
lightning, and all her face wore in an instant a heavenly smile. "Ah, he
is there--there at the back--at the booking-office--run to him, run my
good, dear creature; run and tell him I am here! I'll find a compartment
and have the door open."

Greta tripped along the platform with the foot of a deer. In another
moment she had a carriage door open, and she stood there w