Miss Ronald was too miserable to object or make any suggestions, so they got into a cab and Cunningham gave minute instructions to the driver not to fall off the box and kill himself, or let the horse walk out of the harness, and to be particularly careful about the wheels coming off, and not to try to demolish any ice-wagons that might be harmlessly roving the streets. The driver took these remarks good-humoredly, but was naturally much mystified, and after thinking it over concluded that Cunningham was either very drunk or very crazy. They got back to the theatre in a short time and saw the success of “The Rivals,” and the duel and the just exposure of the infamous Matthews, and wished heartily that their affairs were as happily wound up as those of the fair Miss Linley and Sheridan. It was just ten minutes of eleven when they started back for the Boston and Albany station. Cunningham had retained the cab they had come in and had given still further and more minute directions to the driver, so that as they settled themselves back on the stuffy cushions, they thought they could reasonably hope to get the train in time and safety. When they entered the waiting-room Miss Ronald saw with a sigh of relief that it was just eleven o’clock. There was plenty of time, and it was with a somewhat triumphant air of having conquered immense difficulties, of having fought bravely a hard fight, that Cunningham walked up once more to the ticket-office. “Two tickets, please,” he said briskly as he handed out a dollar bill. The man looked at him for a moment as if making an effort to remember where he had seen him before. “This is the through express to New York. You’ll need more stuff than that to get two tickets,” he said, jocosely. “You told me”--gasped Cunningham. “Yes,” asserted the man. “You asked me when the next train went out and I told you. Of course I thought you knew where you were going,” he added, derisively. Cunningham began to feel very desperate indeed. “Well,” said he, slowly and carefully. “If there is a train that leaves any time to-night for Wellesley, break the news to me gently, and then come and put me on it half an hour before it starts, and tie my ticket to my coat, and put me in charge of the conductor. Otherwise--” he went on impressively, “I may get lost, or wreck the train, or stop the locomotive.” Then he went back to Miss Ronald and told her the news. She had had a very pronounced liking for Mr. Perry Cunningham up to that time, but it occurred to her that he seemed terribly lacking in practicality, and that she was very much disappointed in him. She decided firmly what her answer would be to him if ever he should propose--though it is but fair to state that Mr. Cunningham had no thought of proposing, unless it was proposing how best to get back to College. At 11.25 the last accommodation train pulled out with a very miserable young woman and a very remorseful young man on it.