Nothing more was said, but they all waited patiently for the porter's return. It seemed a very long time. The footman fussed and fumed, and at length beguiled the time by smoking and chatting with the coachman, whom he questioned about Mr. Wiggins. The coachman, however, could give him no information on the subject. “I only know,” said he, “as how that this yer Wiggins is a Liverpool gent, an' latterly he seems inclined to live here. But he don't never see no company, an' keeps hisself shut up close.” At length, after waiting for more than half an hour, the noise of carriage wheels was heard, and a brougham appeared driven by the porter. He turned the brougham inside the gate, and then getting down, he unlocked the small gate and advanced to the carriage. The fellow seemed now to try to be more respectful, for he had a hat on his head which he took off, and made a clumsy attempt at a bow. “Beg pardon, miss,” said he, “for keepin' you waitin'; but I had to put the hosses in. Mr. Wiggins says as how you're to come up in the brougham, an' your trunks an' things 'll be took up afterward. “But I want to drive up in this coach. I can't remove the luggage,” said Edith. “I don't know about that, miss,” said the porter. “I've got to do as I'm told.” At this Edith was silent; but her flashing eyes and a flush that swept over her pale face showed her indignation. “So this is the way he dares to treat me,” said she, after some silence. “Well,” she continued, “for the present I must yield and submit to this insolence. But it only shows more clearly the character of the man. I suppose we must go,” she continued, looking at Miss Plympton, and once more opening the coach door herself. Miss Plympton had been more agitated than ever at this last message, and as Edith opened the door she asked her, breathlessly, “What do you mean? What are you going to do, dear? “I am going to Dalton Hall,” said Edith, quietly. “We must go in the brougham, and we must quit this.” Miss Plympton hesitated, and the maid, who was still more terrified, clasped her hands in silent despair. But the porter, who had heard all, now spoke. “Beg pardon, miss,” said he, “but that lady needn't trouble about it. It's Mr. Wiggins's orders, miss, that on'y _you_ are to go to the Hall.” “What insufferable insolence!” exclaimed Miss Plympton. “What shocking and abominable arrogance!” “I do not regard it in the slightest,” said Edith, serenely. “It is only assumption on his part. You are to come with me. If I pass through that gate you are to come also. Come.” “Oh, my dearest, my own dearest Edith, do not!--wait!--come back and let us talk over what we ought to do. Let us see a lawyer. Let us wait till to-morrow, and see if a stranger like Wiggins can refuse admission to the mistress of Dalton Hall.” “Beg pardon, mum,” said the porter, “but Mr. Wiggins ain't refusin' admission to Miss Dalton--it's others that he don't want, that's all. The lawyers can't do any thin' agin that.”