When I began to plan it out it seemed to get easier and easier. It was only three and a half miles to the station, and along the big road with milestones and telegraph posts all the way. I knew, because, besides driving up the day before, we’d gone along a bit of the road to the village that morning. I’d got my return ticket to King’s Cross in my purse, and once that I got there I’d just take a cab to Waterloo, and then I could get home quite well. I know all about the trains from there, you see, because I’ve been lots of times. I’d got plenty of money, because there was the half-crown that Mother gave me before I came away (I had sewed it into my clothes, of course, like people do for travelling). Then I’d got a shilling and a farthing from my pocket-money, and a sixpence with a hole in it; I knew that with all that I could manage quite well. The only bother was about my box: I couldn’t carry it, of course; it _was_ puzzling. I thought, though, I might tell them at the station to call for it the next day, and let it go by itself, like we sometimes do at home. I wrote the address on the label in printing very neatly. I thought then that I’d start off, though I did feel a little uncomfortable as to whether Mother would mind. She certainly doesn’t like me to go out alone, but sometimes I have been sent on a message. Of course it was getting rather late, but I thought if I ran I could get to Corby, where the station is, before it got quite dark. Besides, I knew Mother wouldn’t wish me to stop when Mrs. Charlton didn’t want me; I heard her say once herself that visitors should never outstay their welcome. The chiefest thing, though, was that I felt I just couldn’t go a whole night more without seeing Mother. The worst part to think of was the going downstairs. My heart was thumping dreadfully by the time I had got on my coat and hat. Oh, first I pinned a little note on to the pincushion to say that I’d gone. It was most useful that I’d read Lizzie’s book, because that is what Lady Vera did before she flew with the Duke; I mightn’t ever have thought of it by myself. I forgot to say that I’d tied up all the magazines in a piece of brown paper and addressed them to “Miss Lizzie Hupandowngirl, thankyou.” I had to put just that because I didn’t know her other name. It was perfectly awful--the going down I mean. The stairs seemed to creak just as if they were doing it on purpose. Every minute I thought some one would come. No one did, though. I expect Mrs. Charlton was having her late dinner; anyway, there was nobody about. I crept across the hall and opened the front door. The squeak it made was dreadful. I stood there for a minute feeling quite sick and funny, but still no one came. So I went out and shut the door behind me as softly as I could. Then I ran and ran.