Annie considered this offer for some little time, and finally said in a grateful tone that she did not think that she could do better than accept it; whereupon the girls whispered and giggled a good deal together and left poor Annie more or less to her own reflections. It was twenty minutes to twelve when the great express entered the huge London terminus which was its destination; and Annie was indeed glad, when she found herself in the whirl of the great Paddington Station, to have Tilda's arm to lean on, and to be accompanied at the other side by Martha Jones. Presently a large young man with a shock of red hair and a freckled face rushed up to the girls, clapped Tilda loudly on the shoulder, and nodded in a most familiar manner to Martha. At sight of Annie, however, he fell back breathless with astonishment and open-eyed admiration; for perhaps in all her life poor little Annie had never looked more absolutely beautiful than she did now. Her cheeks were slightly crimson with the first touch of fever. Her blue eyes were at once dark and bright, and her coral-red lips might have resembled a cherry, so rich was their colour. There was a fragility at the same time about the slim young girl, a sort of delicate refinement, which her pretty dress and golden hair accentuated, so that, compared to Tilda, who was loud and coarse and uncommonly like Sam himself, and Martha, who was a plain, dumpy girl with a cast in one eye, the looked like a being from a superior sphere. Sam had dreamed of creatures like Annie Brooke. He had believed that it was possible for some girls to look like that, but he had never been close to one of these adorable creatures before in the whole course of his life. His silly head swam; his round eyes became rounder than ever with admiration, and even his loud voice became hushed. "Who be she?" he said, plucking at Tilda's sleeve, and his own great, rough voice shaking. "A friend o' our'n," said Tilda, who, not being so susceptible, felt her head very tightly screwed on her shoulders, and was not going to give herself away on Annie's account. "A friend o' our'n," she continued, "a gel whose acquaintance we made in the country. She's a-comin' along 'ome with Martha and me; so you look after our trunks, Sam, and we'll go on to the underground as quick as possible. Don't stare yer eyes out, Sam, for goodness' sake! She won't bolt, beauty though she be." "Oh! I can't go with you; I really can't," said Annie. "There must be a hotel close to this, and I have plenty, plenty of money. Perhaps this--this--gentleman would take me to the hotel." She looked appealingly at Sam, who would have died for her there and then. "I wull--if yer wish, miss," he stammered.