r. It was years since
she set her foot inside a railway carriage. She often boasted of her
abnormal lack of nerves, but she was also heard to say that accidents
by rail were fearful and common, and likely to happen at any moment.
She sighed for the old coaching days, and hated the thought of all
locomotives propelled by steam. Nevertheless, early in the morning of
the day following her interview with Primrose, Hannah, in her usual
neat print dress, was seen to enter the little railway station at
Rosebury, was observed to purchase for herself a third-class return
ticket, and after carefully selecting her carriage, to depart for
London.

In the afternoon of that same day Hannah reached her destination, and
securing the first porter whose attention she could arrest, she placed
a bit of paper in his hand, and asked him to direct her to the address
written upon it. The man screwed up his eyes, stared at the paper,
and suggested that Hannah should place herself in a hansom, and direct
the driver to take her to Park Lane. Hannah had not an idea what a
hansom meant; she had never visited London since her early days. She
stared with horror at the proposed vehicle, and finally selecting the
creakiest and most uninviting of the four-wheelers, drove off to her
destination.

Mrs. Ellsworthy was enjoying some very fragrant tea in her little
boudoir when a servant announced that a person of the name of Martin
had come up from the country in a four-wheeler, and would be glad to
see her as soon as possible.

"What kind of person, Henry?" asked the little lady. "I am very tired
just now, and I must go out to dinner in less than two hours. A person
from the country in a four-wheeler? What can she want with me?"

"She seems a respectable sort of body, ma'am," answered the footman,
"but nervous and shaky, and mortal afraid to step out of the cab; the
cabby and me we had both to lend her a hand in alighting, ma'am. She's
sitting now in a chair in the hall, and I can see she's upset with her
journey, but _respectable_; there's no word for the neatness of her
person, ma'am."

"She is probably poor, and wants me to help her," replied Mrs.
Ellsworthy. "I hate seeing beggars, for I find it absolutely
impossible to say _no_ to them. Show her up, Henry, and give her a
hint that I'm going out to dinner, and can only spare her a very few
moments."

Hannah could not certainly be accused when she entered Mrs.
Ellsworthy's room, of any want of