“Sybil, she doesn't know how long ago,” said Jack. “She's been behaving as I never have heard of any properly trained nurse behaving. She's been kissing me.” “Oh, Jack,” gasped Kathleen, flushing furiously. “Kissing you!” exclaimed Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, looking from one to the other. “Yes, and I have been kissing her,” continued Jack shamelessly. “Oh, Jack,” again gasped Kathleen, looking at Mrs. Waring-Gaunt beseechingly. “Yes,” continued Jack in a voice of triumph, “and we are going to do it right along every day and all day long with suitable pauses for other duties and pleasures.” “Oh, you darling,” exclaimed Mrs. Waring-Gaunt rushing at her. “I am so glad. Well, you are a 'wunner' as the Marchioness says. I had thought--but never mind. Jack, dear, I do congratulate you. I think you are in awful luck. Yes, and you too, Kathleen, for he is a fine boy. I will go and tell Tom this minute.” “Do,” said Jack, “and please don't hurry. My nurse is perfectly competent to take care of me in the meantime.” CHAPTER XV THE COMING OF JANE At sixteen-forty-five the Waring-Gaunt car was standing at the Melville Station awaiting the arrival of the train which was to bring Jane and her father, but no train was in sight. Larry, after inquiry at the wicket, announced that she was an hour late. How much more the agent, after the exasperating habit of railroad officials, could not say, nor could he assign any reason for the delay. “Let me talk to him,” said Nora impatiently. “I know Mr. Field.” Apparently the official reserve in which Mr. Field had wrapped himself was not proof against the smile which Nora flung at him through the wicket. “We really cannot say how late she will be, Miss Nora. I may tell you, but we are not saying anything about it, that there has been an accident.” “An accident!” exclaimed Nora. “Why, we are expecting--” “No, there is no one hurt. A freight has been derailed, and torn up the track a bit. The passenger train is held up just beyond Fairfield. It will be a couple of hours, perhaps three, before she arrives.” At this point the telegraph instrument clicked. “Just a minute, Miss Nora, there may be something on the wire.” With his fingers on the key he executed some mysterious prestidigitations, wrote down some words, and came to the wicket again. “Funny,” he said, “it is a wire for you, Miss Nora.” Nora took the yellow slip and read: “Delayed by derailed freight. Time of arrival uncertain. Very sorry, Jane.” “What do you think of this?” cried Nora, carrying the telegram out to the car. “Isn't it perfectly exasperating? That takes off one of their nights.” “Where is the accident?” inquired Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. “Just above Fairfield.” “Fairfield! The poor things! Jump in and we will be there in no time. It is not much further to Wolf Willow from Fairfield than from here. Hurry up, we must make time.”