"Please will you tell me the time of the next train from town?" The porter rolled his eye sideways, surveyed her up and down, formed an evidently poor opinion, and without a change of position muttered a curt reply-- "Ten-thirty." "Ten-thirty!" Dismay at the lateness of the hour struggled with wounded pride at the man's lack of respect. Half-past ten before any one could come to the rescue; three long hours of chill and darkness, with no one to speak to, and nowhere to go! Darsie threw the thought aside with the impetuous incredulity of youth. "When's the next train to town?" "Nine-ten." That was better! Nine-ten. If she could manage to travel by that train she would arrive at the terminus in abundance of time to prevent any one starting by the next stopping train. It was all easy--perfectly easy, except for the want of a miserable eightpence, but, alas! for the moment eightpence seemed as inaccessible as eighty pounds. Darsie bent a scrutinising glance upon the porter's downcast face. "He looks about as disagreeable as he can be, but he's a human creature; he must have _some_ heart! Perhaps he's in trouble, too, and it's soured his disposition. It would mine! I just _hate_ it when things go wrong. I don't in the least see why I shouldn't have a ticket on account! I'll see what I can do." She coughed and ventured tentatively-- "I missed the last train." "Did ye!" said the porter coldly. It was not a question; there was no flicker of the interest of a question in his voice, only a dreary indifference which seemed to demand what in the world you were thinking of to trouble him about a stupidity which had happened twenty times a day throughout twenty years of his service on the line. Darsie drew herself up with a feeling of affront. He was a rude, ill-mannered man, who ought to be taught how to speak to ladies in distress. She would ask her father to complain to the railway! What were porters paid for but to make themselves useful to passengers? She drew herself up in haughty fashion, then as suddenly collapsed as her eye rested on her dusty boots and blackened, bloodstained skirt. Ridiculous to act the grand lady with such handicaps as these! She drew a sharp breath, and said in a voice of childlike appeal-- "I'm left behind! My friends have gone on. It's very awkward!" "Are ye?" asked the porter indifferently. He took one hand out of his pocket and pointed woodenly to the right. "Waiting-room first door. Ye can sit there!"