Time marches on, however, in his inexorable fashion, and the last day having really come, all go about their work with an elaborately indifferent air, each one making heroic efforts to keep up for the others' sake. The whole family (with the exception of Mrs. Merivale, who has taken leave of her daughter at home quietly) is now standing by the door of a third-class compartment in the London train, in which Doris, surrounded by small packages, is standing up, with tear-bestreamed face, a large smut on her forehead, and a general limpness which extends itself to the handkerchief in her hand, which just now is doing double duty as it were, as are those of all the others. Doris has been kissed by each one in turn several times, and the usual last questions have been asked and answered, and now the guard comes along with his key, and having locked the door quietly moves them all back a little; with no lasting result, however, for they are all crowding round again the moment he is gone. "Are you _sure_," says Honor with a trembling voice, "that you have got everything?" "O yes, _everything_!" answers Doris with a gasp of despair. Honor looks round incredulously, for each one has been carrying to the station a bag, basket, or something belonging to her sister, and as her careful eye travels round she suddenly pounces on Molly, who is discovered still clinging desperately to Doris's umbrella, her thoughts being entirely taken up with the direful fact that the dreaded moment has indeed arrived at last! The umbrella is handed in through the window, and kissing being now rather a daring thing to attempt after the stentorian "Stand away there!" of the guard, Honor and Molly are reaching up their hands for a final squeeze, when Doris, first feeling wildly in the little pocket of her jacket, then diving after her purse, exclaims: "Good gracious! my ticket; who's got it? I haven't!" In the excitement of the search Doris overturns her little luncheon basket, and, oblivious of the fact that the cork of her travelling flask has come out, and the milk it contains is quietly spreading itself out on the cushion until it comes to a little ridge in the leather, where it collects in a nice little pool, she leans distractedly out of the window to see the result of the hurried search which they are all making in all sorts of impossible places. But at this critical moment, and just as the guard is about to blow his whistle, Dick, who has strolled off to look at the advertisements, appears on the scene, and Honor, suddenly remembering that she had intrusted him with the money for the ticket when first they arrived at the station, rushes at him and grasps his arm wildly. "The ticket!" she gasps; "you've forgotten to take the ticket!"