dless was the variety of
delightful tales and illustrations, from legends of King Arthur or the
Red Cross Knight to Middle Age mysteries or modern adventures and school
scrapes, that it should not have been hard to find something to suit any
taste, and the little girl in the sailor hat looked on so fascinated
with the snatches she was able to read that she did not notice when a
sweet-faced lady in black came hurrying up, until the latter touched her
on the arm.

"Why, mother dear--at last!"

"Did you think I was lost, darling? I had such terrible difficulty to
get a porter, and the brown box had been put in the wrong van, and has
gone on to Whitecastle. I was obliged to telegraph about it, but I hope
we may get it this evening. Come along! That's our train over there.
We've only just nice time, for it will start in a few minutes now. Give
me the wraps."

She took the hold-all from the child's hand, and the two hurried across
the bridge on to the opposite platform.

"Here's our porter!" cried Mrs. Stewart.--"Have you put all in the van?
Yes, these things in the carriage, please. Third class. It seems almost
impossible to find a seat. Is there room here? How fortunate!--Come,
Isobel; get in quickly."

"Plenty o' room here, marm," shouted a stout, gray-haired, farmer-like
old man, as he reached out a strong hand to help her into the carriage,
and found a place for her wraps upon the already crowded rack.

The compartment was more than half full. A party of cheap trippers with
a wailing baby, and a "pierrot" with a banjo, which he occupied himself
with tuning incessantly, did not offer much prospect of a peaceful
journey; but Mrs. Stewart knew it was impossible to choose one's company
at a holiday season, and wisely made the best of things, while
travelling was still such a novelty to Isobel that she would have
enjoyed any experience.

"It's no easy job catchin' trains to-day, marm," said the old farmer,
with the air of one who enjoys hearing himself talk. "How them porters
gets all the folks sorted out fairly beats me. It's main hot, too. I've
come all the way fra' Birmingham. Bin travellin' since eight o'clock
this mornin', and I shall be reet glad to find myself back at
Silversands again. Little missy 'ud like to sit by the window here, I
take it?" good-naturedly making room for her.--"Nay, no need o' thanks!
You're welcome, honey. I've a grandchild over at Skegness way as might
be your livin' image. Bless you!