"Oh, thank you!" returned Bessie, and she went quickly through the little waiting-room. A young man in knickerbockers, with a couple of large sporting dogs, was talking to the station-master, and looked after her as she passed; but Bessie did not notice him particularly; her eyes were fixed on the road, and on a pony-carriage drawn up under the trees. Miss Sefton waved her whip when she saw Bessie, and drove quickly up to the door. She looked prettier than ever in her dark-blue cambric and large shady hat. "How do you do, Miss Lambert? I am delighted to see you again. How punctual you are. Jump in. Ford will look after your luggage. This is a very different meeting, is it not, from our last? No snow about, but a very hot sun for June. Where is your sunshade? You will want it. Yes, that is right; put it up--my hat shades me. Now then, Ford, are you ready? Go on, Jack. What are you about, Jill? Are not my ponies pretty, Miss Lambert? Richard gave them to me last birthday, but I am afraid I plagued him a good deal beforehand to provoke such unusual generosity. There is nothing like teasing when you want a thing." Bessie smiled, but remained silent; she was tired, and not quite inclined for repartee. They had turned into a long, lovely lane, so narrow that no vehicle could have passed them, and the thick hedgerows were full of pink and white briar roses and other wild flowers; on either side lay hop fields. Bessie uttered a delighted exclamation. "Yes, I told you you would admire our Kentish lanes. They are pretty now, but in the winter they are not quite so pleasant. Well, did Mrs. Sinclair meet you, as she promised?" "No, her son came instead; he said his mother was seriously indisposed, and unable to keep her engagement." "Neville met you. How extremely odd! How on earth did you discover each other? Were you very much embarrassed, Miss Lambert?" "No; it was a little strange at first, but Mr. Sinclair was very kind and pleasant, and soon put me at my ease." "Oh, Neville always gets on with ladies; there is certainly no fault to find with him in that respect. His civility is natural to him; he is just as polite to an old woman with a market basket and a few apples tied up in a blue spotted handkerchief as he is to a lady whose dress has been made by Worth." "I call that true politeness," returned Bessie warmly. "There is not much of the precious commodity to be found in our days; the young men one meets in society are not cut after that pattern. And so Mrs. Sinclair is ailing again?" "'Seriously indisposed,' was Mr. Sinclair's expression; and he looked rather grave, I thought."