“I have ventured to get you a few papers, hoping they would beguile you on your journey,” she said. Mr. Wimple was as grave as ever and as rickety on his legs. His face showed no sign of pleasure at the sight of the old lady, but his manner was deferential; he seemed to be trying to impress certain indefinite facts upon her. “I never read in a train,” he answered, “but I shall be glad of them at the end of the journey. Thank you.” He said the last two words with a sigh, and put them in the corner he had already secured of the railway carriage. He looked at the clock. Twenty minutes before he started. He seemed to consider something for a moment, looking critically at the old lady while he did so. “Cannot I persuade you to give me your address in Hampshire?” He coughed a little. “Have you your glycerine lozenges with you?” she asked hurriedly. “Yes,” he answered, “they are in my pocket. I will write to you, Mrs. Baines; I may have something of importance to say.” “Everything that you say is important,” she answered nervously. He got into the train and sat down. “I am tired,” he said; “you must excuse me for not standing any longer.” He shivered as he opened the window. “I dislike third class,” he added, “but I go by it on principle; I am not rich enough to travel by any other, Mrs. Baines,” and he looked at her fixedly. She was silent, she seemed fascinated, she looked at him for a moment and winked absently; then a thought seemed to strike her and she started. “Wait!” she exclaimed; “I will return in a moment,” and she hurried away. In five minutes she came back breathless with excitement. “I have taken a great liberty,” she said humbly, “but you must forgive me. I have ventured to get you this ticket; will you please me by changing into a first-class carriage? You must imagine that you are my guest,” and she looked at him anxiously. “The guard is waiting——” “I cannot refuse you anything, Mrs. Baines.” And with a chastened air he pulled his portmanteau from under the seat. The guard was waiting outside for it, and took it to an empty carriage. Mr. Wimple followed, Aunt Anne carrying the papers. He took his place and looked round satisfied. The guard touched his hat to the old lady and went his way. Mrs. Baines gave a sigh of satisfaction. “Now I shall feel content, and you will not be disturbed,” she added triumphantly. “I have spoken——” She stopped, for his hacking cough came back; she seemed to shrink with pain as she heard it. “I am quite an invalid,” he said impressively. “I wish I were going with you to nurse you.” “I need nursing, Mrs. Baines,” he answered sadly. “I need a great many things.” “I wish I could give them to you.” He looked at her curiously; as if the words came from him without his knowledge, he said suddenly, “I see Sir William Rammage is a little better.”