She nodded and smiled from the platform. Anna handed out her numerous parcels and baskets: the train moved on, and she was now quite alone. She might really begin to look out for Dornton, which must be quite near. It seemed a long time coming, however, and she had made a good many false starts, grasping her rugs and umbrella, before there was an unmistakable shout of "Dornton!" She got out and looked up and down the platform, but it was easy to see that Mrs Forrest was not there. Two porters, a newspaper boy, and one or two farmers, were moving about in the small station, but no one in the least like Aunt Sarah. Anna stood irresolute. She had been so certain that Aunt Sarah would be there, that she had not even wondered what she should do in any other case. Mrs Forrest had promised to come herself, and Anna could not remember that she had ever failed to carry out her arrangements at exactly the time named. "If it had been father, now," she said to herself in her perplexity, "he would perhaps have forgotten, but Aunt Sarah--" "Any luggage, miss?" asked the red-faced young porter. "Oh yes, please," said Anna; "and I expected some one to meet me--a lady." She looked anxiously at him. "Do 'ee want to go into the town?" he asked, as Anna pointed out her trunks. "There's a omnibus outside." "No; I want to go to Waverley Vicarage," said Anna, feeling very deserted. "How can I get there?" She followed the porter as he wheeled the boxes outside the station, where a small omnibus was waiting, and also a high spring-cart, in which sat a well-to-do-looking farmer. "You ain't seen no one from Waverley, Mr Oswald?" said the porter. "This 'ere young lady expects some one to meet her." The farmer looked thoughtfully at Anna. "Waverley, eh," he repeated, "Vicarage?" "Ah," said the porter, nodding. Another long gaze. "Well, I'm going by the gate myself," he said at last. "I reckon Molly wouldn't make much odds of the lot," glancing at the luggage, "if the young lady would like a lift." "Perhaps," said Anna, hesitatingly, "I'd better have a cab, as Mrs Forrest is not here." "I could order you a fly at the Blue Boar," said the porter. "'Twouldn't be ready, not for a half-hour or so. Mr Oswald 'd get yer over a deal quicker." No cabs! What a strange place, and how unlike London! Anna glanced uncertainly at the high cart, the tall strawberry horse stamping impatiently, and the good-natured, brown face of the farmer. It would be an odd way of arriving at Waverley, and she was not at all sure that Aunt Sarah would approve of it; but what was she to do? It was very kind of the farmer; would he expect to be paid? "Better come along, missie," said Mr Oswald, as these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind. "You'll be over in a brace of shakes.--Hoist them things in at the back, Jim." Almost before she knew it, Anna had taken the broad hand held out to help her, had mounted the high step, and was seated by the farmer's side.