They have reached the station and Essie stops outside the booking-office. "Look here, I tell you what there is to it. Don't you worry about the sack. Ten to one you won't get it till he's got some one instead of you, anyway. Just you don't worry. It only makes it worse, like when you're going to have a tooth out. You see if you can't make those poor boys happy. Why, you know, when I first had my Sunday-school class, oh, they were cautions! They'd never had any one to be kind to them, jus' like your boys. I told 'em stories, and told 'em games, and took 'em a walk every time, and showed 'em things, and you'd never believe how good they are now. You just try. I mean to say, whatever's the good of anybody if you don't try to make other folk happy, is there? Oh, there's my train signalled. Goo'-by. I shan't half think how you're getting on. I say, though--" and Essie, who has been extraordinarily grave in this long speech, begins to sparkle in her eyes again. "Yes," says Mr. Wriford. "You haven't got a minute to buy my ticket?" "I'll get your ticket, of course." "That's fine." She counts him some money from her purse. "Third return Wilton, excursion. Mind you say excursion. One and tuppence. Here comes the puffer." Mr. Wriford says "excursion;" and then Essie, by hanging back as the train comes in, indicates clearly enough that she would like him also to find her a carriage. When she is in and leaning from the window she explains the reason of these manoeuvres. "Thanks awfully," says Essie and whispers: "You know, I like people to see me with a young man to fuss me about." Mr. Wriford's smile is the first expression of real amusement he has known in many long months. As the train begins to move he raises his hat. "Oh, thanks awfully," cries Essie, immensely pleased. "Remember what I said. I shan't half think how you're getting on. Mind you remember! Goo'-bye! Goo'-bye!" II