"Good-bye, darling," said Mrs Ingram, stooping to kiss her. "Give my love to Aunt Hannah, and remember that Maria has a note for her; and be good and obedient. You may write to me once every week, and I shall write to you when I can." Susan clung silently to her mother's neck. If only she might have cried! Freddie pushed up the handkerchief, and looked at her with his dark heavy eyes. "Good-bye, Susie," he murmured; "don't let old Emptycap bully you." "And now," said her mother, "you must really go. Is Maria there? Kiss Freddie." She led Susan to the door where Maria waited; in the hall the cabman was just shouldering the luggage. "You know what I have told you, Maria. Take care of Miss Susan, and I shall expect you home early to-morrow." Susan looked back when she reached the foot of the stair, and Mother smiled and nodded, waving her hand; then there was an impatient cry of "Mother!" from Freddie's room, and she vanished. When Susan was in the cab with only Maria and Grace to see, she cried, and refused all comfort for some time; not only because she was going away to strangers, but also because up to the last minute she had so much hoped that Mother would say something about the pink pin-cushion. On rattled the cab past all the shops that Susan knew so well, and through the streets where she had often walked with Mother or Nurse. The journey to Ramsgate was to be made by sea, and they were to be driven to Saint Katharine's Docks to take the steamer which started from there at ten o'clock. Susan had heard her mother's directions to Maria, and knew exactly what they had to do; she felt indeed that she should remember them better, for she was accustomed to hear Nurse say that Maria had "no head." She had not therefore much respect for her, and thought it likely that she would make mistakes and forget things; but though this was the case, there was a great deal to be liked in Maria. For one thing she was always good-natured, and such a very good listener; really interested in all Susan's information and startled at any wonderful story, for she was a country girl, and had not yet ceased to be surprised at London life. Presently, therefore, as they got further on, Susan felt bound to point out and explain any objects or buildings of interest they passed. She dried her eyes, looked out of the window, and drew her companion's attention by sudden digs of her elbow, which at last became so frequent that Maria's head was constantly on the move from one side to the other for fear she should miss anything. Soon with a more violent nudge than usual Susan shouted in her ear: "Look, Maria! there's the Tower of London!" "Mercy on us!" exclaimed Maria, gazing open-mouthed; "what a big place!" "It's where they used to cut off people's heads, you know," continued Susan excitedly; "and kept them in dungeons years and years. And where they smothered the little princes with a pillow, and buried them under the stairs." "Lawk!" said Maria.