“That is splendid!” exclaimed Judy with enthusiasm, as she was lifted into the carryall by Ran and placed in the sheltered back seat. “Dandy must sit back there with you, darling. He is old, and then the drive over the moor will be a very cold one. You won’t mind it, will you, Judy?” he inquired, as he settled her among the cushions and tucked her fur cloak well around her feet. “Why, no, of course not. Especially if you will sit right in front of me so I can lean my head forward on your shoulder sometimes,” Judy replied. Then Ran helped Dandy in and made him sit by Judy. The others followed. Ran and Will Walling sat immediately in front of Judy and Dandy. Mike and Longman on the third seat forward. The driver, a stout Yorkshireman, on the box. The strong draught horses started at a moderate pace, such as might well be kept up during the whole journey across the moor. It was a dark, cold night, and the two glass lanterns, fixtures, on each side above the driver’s seat, did little better than make “darkness visible.” But the road was as safe as a road by night could be, and the horses knew it as well as they knew the way to their own cribs. Two hours of jog trot, safe and steady driving brought them to a great mass of dense shadows, like black mountains and forests against a dark gray northern sky. The driver drew up his horses before this mystery and announced that they had reached the great wall of Haymore Park. “How far from the lodge gates?” inquired Ran. “About half a mile, sir.” “Drive on then.” “If you please, Mr. Hay, I would like to leave the carryall at the point nearest Haymore hamlet and rectory,” said Longman. “Of course! Of course! Naturally you must hasten first of all to your dear mother. But remember, friend, you are my guest at the Hall, and bring your mother also if you can persuade her to come,” heartily responded Ran. “Yes, do, Mr. Longman. And I will go to see your mother just as soon as ever I can,” warmly added Judy. “I thank you both very much,” replied Longman, but he gave no promise. “Remember, Longman, that you saved my life. But for you—under the Divine Providence,” said Ran, reverently lifting his hat, “I should not be here now.” “No, nor I, either, for that matter,” added Judy. “We both owe you a debt that we can never repay, Longman,” said Ran, with emotion. “Never, except in love and gratitude. And we would like to put ‘a body’ in our sentiments to make them ‘felt,’ Mr. Longman. You will come and stay with us at the house, will you not?” pleaded Judy. “You make too much of my service, a service that any man worthy of the name would have done for any other. I do not know what my plain old mother would say to you.” “I am plain myself,” said Judy; “a child of the people. Less than that, for I never knew father or mother—a child of the planet only! My only worth is being the wife of my dear Ran here!”