Margaret watched her step into the pony-carriage, tuck the dust wrap over her knees and over Mrs. Murray's, and then settle herself with an air of obvious enjoyment for her drive. From the window Margaret could see the long, white chalky road that they would traverse to reach Windy Gap, which place doubtless lay to the left beyond the high ridge which shut out all further view of the downs. The road wound its leisurely way between high hedges and green fields, was lost for awhile as it passed behind an outlying spur of the downs, and became visible again as, apparently repenting its former meanderings below, it sternly took the shortest and steepest way possible up the side of the hill, and finally disappeared over the brow. And it might have fallen to her lot to be sitting beside Mrs. Murray and in that little low pony-carriage, and to be driving along that monotonous road to the remote village on the downs instead of to be whirling past them as she did in a train on her way to a houseful of young people. Margaret could have hugged herself with pleasure as she thought of the exchange she had made. CHAPTER VIII MAUD DANVERS There were only three or four stations between Chailfield and Seabourne, and they followed so closely on one another that in rather less than half an hour the train ran into the big station of Seabourne. "Any luggage, Miss, cab, or outside porter, please," said a porter, opening the door of the carriage. "One trunk and a hat-box, and I will have a cab, please," Margaret answered. She was rather surprised and pleased at her own self-possession, as led by the porter she threaded her way up the crowded platform. And when he paused to ask her what name he should look for on the trunk she gave Eleanor's as calmly as though she had been known by it all her life. It had not occurred to Margaret that any one might come to the station to meet her, or, rather, to meet the girl whose identity she had taken on herself, consequently she gave a startled jump, when, as she stood on the edge of the press of people round the luggage van, a tap fell smartly on her shoulder, and turning, she found herself confronted by a merry, sunburnt girl of about her own age. "Miss Carson, isn't it?" the latter sang out in a clear, rather pleasant voice, that could be distinctly heard above the noise and confusion surrounding them. "Oh, don't look so astonished! I heard you tell the porter the name on your luggage, and I tracked you up the platform. Let me introduce myself. I am Maud Danvers, and I hope you've had a nice journey and all that. I say, you're taking a cab, aren't you? That's all right. Get in to one when you've collected all your belongings, will you, and wait for me, and I'll drive up with you. I shan't be long, but I have just got to go and finish a conversation that I am in the middle of."