'Yes, she always travels with us,' said Dick, standing at the carriage door. 'Come, get in, Montgomery; make haste, Dubois.' 'But where's Bret?' shouted someone. 'I haven't seen him,' replied several voices. 'Is there any lady missing?' asked Montgomery. 'No,' replied Mortimer in the deepest nasal intonation he could assume, 'but I noticed a relation of the chief banker in the town in the theatre last night. Perhaps our friend has had his cheque stopped.' Roars of laughter greeted this sally, the relevance of which no one could even faintly guess; and the guard smiled as he said to the porter: 'That's Mr. Mortimer. Amusing, is them theatre gentlemen.' Then, turning to Dick, 'I must start the train. Your friend will be late if he doesn't come up jolly quick.' 'Isn't it extraordinary that Bret can never be up to time? Every night there's a stage wait for him to come on for the serenade,' said Dick, withdrawing his head from the window. 'Here 'e is, sir,' said the guard. 'Come on, Bret; you'll be late,' shouted Dick. A tall, thin man in a velvet coat, urged on by two porters, was seen making his way down the platform with a speed that was evidently painful. 'In here,' said Dick, opening the door. Out of the dim station they passed into the bright air alongside of long lines of waggons laden with chimney-pots and tiles, the produce of Hanley. The collieries steamed above their cinder-hills, the factory chimneys vomited, and as Kate looked out on this world of work that she was leaving for ever, she listened to the uncertain trouble that mounted up through her mind, and to the voices of the actors talking of comic songs and dances. She put out her hand instinctively to find Dick's; he was sitting beside her, and she felt happy again. At these intimacies none but Frank Bret was surprised, and the laugh that made Kate blush was occasioned by the tenor's stupid questioning look: it was the first time he had seen her; he had not yet heard the story of the elopement, and his glance went from one to the other, vainly demanding an explanation, and to increase the hilarity Dick said: 'But, by the way, Bret, what made you so late this morning? Were you down at the bank cashing a cheque?' 'What are you thinking about? There are no banks open on Sunday morning,' said Bret, who of course had not the least idea what was meant. The reply provoked peals of laughter from all save Miss Leslie, and all possible changes were rung on the joke, until it became as nauseous to the rest of the company as to the bewildered tenor, who bore the chaff with the dignified stupidity of good looks. The mummers travelled third class. Kate sat next the window, with her back to the engine; Dick was beside her, and Miss Leslie facing her; then came Dubois and Bret, with Montgomery at the far end. The conversation had fallen, and Dick, passing his arm around Kate's waist, whispered to her and to Leslie: