"There's the five o'clock train," said Delia to herself; "to-morrow by this time she will be here." Mrs Winn and Miss Gibbins meanwhile had pursued their way home together, for they lived close to each other. "It's a pity Delia Hunt has such blunt manners, isn't it?" said the latter regretfully, "and such very decided opinions for a young girl? It's not at all becoming. I felt quite uncomfortable just now." "She'll know better by-and-by," said Mrs Winn. "There's a great deal of good in Delia, but she is conceited and self-willed, like all young people." Miss Gibbins sighed. "She'll never be so amiable as her dear mother," she said.--"Why!" suddenly changing her tone to one of surprise, "isn't that Mr Oswald?" "Yes, I think so," said Mrs Winn, gazing after the spring-cart which had passed them rapidly. "What then?" "He had a _child_ with him," said Miss Gibbins impressively. "A child with fair hair, like Prissy Goodwin's, and they came from the station. Something tells me it was Prissy's daughter." "Nonsense, Julia," replied Mrs Winn; "she's not expected till to-morrow. Mrs Forrest told Mrs Hunt so herself. Besides, how should Mr Oswald have anything to do with meeting her? That was his own little girl with him, I daresay." "Daisy Oswald has close-cropped, black hair," replied Miss Gibbins, quite unshaken in her opinion. "This child was older, and her hair shone like gold. I feel sure it was Prissy's daughter." CHAPTER THREE. WAVERLEY. Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide. Milton. While this went on at Dornton, Anna was getting nearer and nearer to her new home. At first she was pleased and excited at setting forth on a journey all by herself, and found plenty to occupy her with all she saw from the carriage windows, and with wondering which of the villages and towns she passed so rapidly were like Dornton and Waverley. It was surprising that the old lady sitting opposite to her could look so placid and calm. Perhaps, however, she was not going to a strange place amongst new people, and most likely had taken a great many journeys already in her life. Anna was glad this was not her own ease: it must be very dull, she thought, to be old, and to have got used to everything, and to have almost nothing to look forward to.