"The stout man is right, but he might be less dogmatic about it. I wondered at its going so far North." Mrs. Craig was quite chatty and a very sensible body who saw several amusing things outside of the coach. All the passengers had brought luncheons along and they stopped by a wayside spring for a refreshing drink and to water the horses. Most of the travellers took a little walk around to rest their limbs. And then on again. The afternoon seemed long to Daffodil, though M. de Ronville entertained her with some reminiscences of the war and before that time, and how queer and unpromising the first beginnings were, and about William Penn, whose dream and desire had been "A fair roomy city with houses set in gardens of greenery," and Benjamin Franklin, who had done so much brave work for the country. The post road had been made very tolerable. The darkness dropped down and the woods seemed full of strange things that made her shiver. Then they stopped at an inn--taverns they were called in those days--and had a good supper. "Are you very tired?" asked M. de Ronville with much solicitude. "Not so much tired as stiff. I think I never sat still so long even at school," and she smiled. "It's a rather long journey, and I hope," he was going to say, "you will not be homesick," but checked himself and added, "that you will not get clear tired out. I will see if we cannot get some horses for to-morrow. That will make a change." "Oh, I shall like that," her face in a glow of pleasure. The supper was very good and she was healthily hungry. Mrs. Craig found some amusement to keep up the little girl's spirits, and she fared very well until she was safe in bed beside her kind companion. Then she turned her face to the wall and her mind went back to all the nights in her short life when she had been kissed and cuddled by mother or grandmere, or for the last ten days by Norry, and now she suddenly realized what the separation meant. The glamour was gone. She could not go back. Oh, why had she come! She wanted to fly to the dear ones. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her nightdress, and sighed very softly, but she need not have minded, for Mrs. Craig was gently snoring. The next morning was bright and clear, but she wondered where she was when Mrs. Craig spoke to her. What a little bit of a room and a tin basin to wash in! "I hope you slept well. And I never dreamed a word! What a shame, when your dreams in a strange place come true--but you wouldn't want a bad dream to come true." "No," in a very sober tone. There was noise enough, but it was not the familiar home tones and Felix bustling about. Daffodil made a great effort to restrain her feelings and laughed a little at some of the sallies. M. de Ronville was pacing up and down the hall, and he held out both hands, but his eyes wore an anxious expression.