Never, since she was a mere girl, had Mona known any lack of friends,--friends true and devoted; but, in spite of moments of curious impulsiveness, a proud reserve, which was half sensitiveness, had always kept even the irrepressible Lucy more or less at a distance. None of her friends had ever presumed to lay claim to any proprietorship in her, as Sir Douglas now did; and perhaps because it was something so new and strange, his blunt kindness was more welcome than the refinement of tact to her sensitive nature. It was growing dark when the train drew in to the Waverley Station. "I want to go to Borrowness," said Mona hastily. "Am I in time for the train?" "Borrowness," repeated the porter meditatively, for the place was not one of European celebrity. "Well, ma'am, it's touch and go. If you have no luggage you might manage it." "You will do nothing of the kind," said a quiet voice, and a neatly gloved hand was slipped into Mona's arm. "I never heard anything more absurd." "Oh, Doris!" exclaimed Mona. "Why did you come? I told you I could only come to you if I missed the last train." "Was not that the more reason why I should come here for a glimpse of you? I don't get the chance so often. But if you think you are going on with that tired face, and without any dinner, you are much mistaken. Mona, I am surprised--_you_ of all people!" "If you only knew it," said Mona resignedly, "you are very unkind." "No, I am not. I will observe your own conditions, and argue about nothing. Your will shall be law; I shall not even refer to your last letter unless you do. If you tell me that you are going to fly to the moon from the top of the Scott Monument, I shall merely wish you a pleasant journey. And indeed, dear, I am quite sure your train had gone." "Well, let me telegraph to my cousin," said Mona, with a sigh. Doris Colquhoun was not a little surprised at her easy victory, but in truth her friend was too worn out to argue. "My own ponies shall take you out," said Doris. "They are something new since you were here, and they are such beauties. Do not laugh when you see my groom. Father hunted him out for me. He is about the size of a pepper-pot." With a light practised hand she took the reins, the "pepper-pot" touched his hat with infinite solemnity, and they bowled away through the town and out into the suburbs. "Your pepper-pot is a work of art, without doubt," said Mona, "but I fear he would not be of much use in case of an accident." "So Father said. But the ponies are very safe, and I don't know what fear is when I am driving. Father is well content to gratify all my whims, so long as I hold my peace about the one that is more than a whim." Mona did not answer. Just then they entered the avenue of a brightly lighted house; and, with a magnificent sweep, Doris brought the ponies to a standstill in front of the steps.