She laid her hand on his arm. “I want you to help me,” she said softly; “that is, if you can do it without getting yourself into trouble. The express stops at Kenny Junction at five minutes to nine, but that’s six miles away, and I must take some luggage—” “Mercy on us!” he exclaimed, “how can ye think it out so quick?” “I’ve thought it out, and dreamed of it, and cried about it, Sam, oh, a hundred times! Now, can you get some one with a cart, or anything on wheels, to meet me, secretly, outside of the village, at seven o’clock?” He gave her a long look. “Will ye no’ think over it, Miss?” he asked at last. “I’m going to-night. Can’t you imagine what life here, with those people, must be?” “Aye,” he said slowly. “No’ to be endured, I dare say. But—”—he became timid—“I mun ask ye a question, Miss, whether it offends ye or no. It—it’s about young Mr. Hayward. Ye’re no’ running away wi’ him, are ye?” Once more she laughed. “I had forgotten all about him,” she said truthfully. “What a question to ask!” Then she flushed a little. He looked abashed as he murmured— “Young folks do stupid things in haste, and it was for both your sakes I asked the question. Well, well,” he went on, “if your mind’s made up, I suppose I canna change it.” “And you’ll see about a cart, Sam?” she said eagerly. “No, I’ll no’ do that!” “What? . . . why?” “Because when ye leave your uncle’s house, when ye leave Dunford, ye mun leave wi’ your head high and your name fair. Think, Miss! What’ll it mean if ye creep away as if—as if ye was guilty? Why, it would mean that your uncle would be free to make a scandal, aye, and maybe do something worse—” “But he can prove me guilty as it is! And do you think for a moment he would let me go?” “Will ye trust me, Miss?” “Of course, Sam.” “Ye promise?” “Yes; if you won’t keep me from going?” “Then ye’ve promised! Now listen, for we’ll maybe no’ get another chance to arrange it. At seven o’clock to-night ye’ll ha’ your bag and things ready, and ye’ll come down the stair, wi’ neither fear nor trembling, and ye’ll open the door, and ye’ll find me waiting wi’ a cart—” “But, Sam, Sam—” “And if your uncle or your aunt asks where ye’re going, answer the truth. But if they try to stop ye, leave them to me. That’s all. If ye canna trust me—” “Oh, but I will—I do!” she cried, “though I don’t understand—” “Then it’s settled, and I just hope I’m no’ doing a bad thing for ye in helping ye. . . . And now the folk’ll be wondering what’s come over their letters.”