The stranger, however, did not draw from this any conclusions which were humiliating to himself. People are not so close to mark our looks and words as we imagine them to be. He smiled serenely, and as the train was now plunging along in the fussy yet leisurely manner common to a country train which stops at all the stations, resumed, with an air of great satisfaction and complacency-- “I am very glad you don’t mind; for I came into the carriage on purpose--because I saw you get in. I wanted to speak to you,” said Mr. Markham Gaveston, with a genial smile. Then Dolly began to quake a little. Was he mad--or what did he mean? “Do you know me?” she said, faltering. She had heard of the stranger at the Markham Arms, but had not seen him. “I have the pleasure of knowing who you are,” he said, taking off his hat with the utmost politeness. “My little--relations, the little Markhams, pointed you out to me.’ “Oh,” cried Dolly again, “then you are----?” “Yes, exactly,” he said, smiling, “that is what I am. I have come from the tropics, and I do not know much about England. If I say anything that is very unusual, I hope you will excuse me. It is disagreeable that they should be away just when I have come so far to see them.” “Yes,” said Dolly, hesitating. She could not refuse to answer him; but to discuss her friends with a stranger was a thing against which her heart revolted. “They did not expect to be away; it was quite unexpected,” she said. “And I have no reason to complain, for they did not know I was coming. All the same, one may say it is disagreeable, don’t you think? I have to put up in the inn, instead of being in my--instead of being among my own people.” “Do you know the Markhams, sir?” said Dolly. She had a way of saying “sir” to men whom she considered old men; but happily Mr. Markham Gaveston did not know what was his title to so respectful an address. “I know the little boys and the little girls,” he said. “I could wish there were no more.” “Why?” Dolly turned upon him with a flash of indignation, with eyes wide open and lips apart. “Ah! what a silly thing to say, wasn’t it?” he said. “You may be sure I couldn’t have meant it. I want you to tell me about the others--the eldest girl and the boy.” “I! tell you--about the others!” Dolly grew pale, and then red again. Either he must be mad, which had been her first thought, or else---- “Yes,” he said, quite calmly, “don’t be frightened. I want to have a good account of them and that is what has brought me to you.” Once more Dolly stared at him in consternation. She wanted to be angry and think him impertinent, but he was not impertinent. “Don’t be frightened,” her strange companion went on. “I want to hear all that is good of them. They tell me that I won’t hear anything that is not good from you.”