Anna started and looked eagerly back, but Molly's long stride had already placed a good distance between herself and the figure which was descending the hill. That her grandfather! Was it possible? He looked so poor, so dusty, so old, such a contrast to the merry June evening, as he tramped wearily down the flowery lane, a little bent to one side by the weight of his violin-case. Not an important or remarkable person, such as she had pictured to herself, but a tired old man, of whom the farmer spoke in a tone of pity. Her father had done so too, she remembered. Did every one pity her grandfather? There was all the more need, certainly, that she should help and cheer him, yet Anna felt vaguely disappointed, she hardly knew why. These thoughts chased away her smiles completely, and such a grave expression took their place that the farmer noticed the change. "Tired, missie, eh?" he inquired. "Well, we're there now, so to speak. Yonder's the spire of Waverley church, and the Vicarage is close against it--steady then, lass," as Molly objected to turning in at a white gate. "It's a terrible business is travelling by rail," he continued, "to take the spirit out of you; I'd sooner myself ride on horseback for a whole day, than sit in a train half a one." A long, narrow road, with iron railings on either side, dividing it from broad meadows, brought them to another gate, which the farmer got down to open, and then led Molly up to the porch of the Vicarage. A boy running out from the stable-yard close by stood at the horse's head while Mr Oswald carefully helped Anna down from her high seat, took out her trunks from the back of the cart, and rang the bell. Again the question of payment troubled her, but he did not leave her long to consider it. "Well, you're landed now, missie," he said with his good-natured smile, as he took the reins and turned the impatient Molly towards the gate; "so I'll say good-day to you, and my respects to Mr and Mrs Forrest." Molly seemed to Anna to make but one bound from the door to the gate, and to carry the cart and the farmer out of sight, while she was still murmuring her thanks. She turned to the maid-servant, who had opened the door and was gazing at her and her boxes with some surprise. "Yes, miss," she said, in answer to Anna's inquiry; "Mrs Forrest is at home; she's in the garden, if you'll please to come this way; we didn't expect you till to-morrow." Through the door opposite, Anna could see a lawn, a tea-table under a large tree, a gentleman in a wicker chair, and a lady, in a broad-brimmed hat, sauntering about with a watering-pot in her hand. When she saw Anna following the maid, the lady dropped her watering-pot, and stood rooted to the ground in an attitude of intense surprise. "Why, Anna!" she exclaimed. "Didn't you expect me, Aunt Sarah?" said Anna. "Father said you would meet me to-day."