The station clock struck nine; the porter took a turn along the platform and peered curiously through the dusty window; a luggage train rattled slowly past, an express whizzed by with thunderous din. The station clock struck the quarter, and still the problem was as far as ever from solution. "Well," sighed Darsie miserably, "I must just wait. I'm perished with cold already. In two more hours I shall be frozen. Rheumatic fever, I suppose, or galloping decline. It will settle Aunt Maria, that's _one_ good thing! but it's hard all the same, in the flower of my youth! To think of all that a human creature can suffer for the sake of a miserable eightpence!" She got up stiffly and pressed her face against the pane. People were beginning to assemble for the nine-ten. An old man with a satchel of tools, two old women with baskets. "The poor are always generous to the poor. Suppose I ask them? Twopence three farthings each would not kill them!" But when one is not used to begging, it is extraordinary how difficult it is to begin. Darsie tried to think of the words in which she would proffer her request, and blushed in discomfort. No! she _could_ not. Of the two disagreeables it really seemed easier to shiver two hours, and retain one's pride intact, and then, suddenly, the door of the waiting-room opened with a bang, and Dan's heavy figure stood on the threshold! The cry of delight, of breathless incredulity with which Darsie leaped to her feet, must have been heard to the end of the platform. She rushed forward, clutched his arm, and hugged it fast in the rapture of relief. "Oh, Dan--you angel--you angel! Have you dropped down straight from the skies?" "Not I! Nothing so easy. Scorched along bad roads on a rickety machine. Would you be kind enough to let go my arm and stop shrieking! You'll have the whole village here in a moment. So _you're_ all right, I see! Sitting quietly here, after scaring us half out of our wits--" "I think _I'm_ the one to be scared! You were all ready enough to go on, and leave me stranded by myself. I've gone through a martyrdom. Dan! tell me, when did you miss me first?" Dan gave an expressive grimace. He looked hot and dusty, and thankful to sit down on the leather bench. "Well, it was too much of a scrimmage to think of anything for the first few miles, but things have a way of printing themselves on one's brain, and when I _did_ begin to think, there seemed something missing! I remembered Vie's face--the colour of a beetroot, and Clemence limping in the rear. I remembered John and Russell hauling up Hannah by her arms, and the two mothers were safely in their carriage--I'd made sure of that, but--I couldn't remember a thing about _you_! Then I asked Vie, and she said you were a long way behind, and I began to guess what had happened. At the first stop I did a rush round, and--there you weren't! So of course I came back."