They took tea at the parsonage at six, and he had to hasten to be in time. He had made his scanty dinner, as usual, at Blackstone. In descending the stairs from his room he encountered Mrs. Chattaway in the lower corridor. "Are you going out, Rupert?" "I am going to the parsonage, Aunt Edith. Mr. Daw leaves this evening, and he asked me to go in for an hour or two." "Very well. Remember me kindly to Mrs. Freeman. And, Rupert--my dear----" "What?" he asked, arresting his hasty footsteps and turning to speak. "You will not be late?" "No, no," he answered, his careless tone a contrast to her almost solemn one. "It's all right, Aunt Edith." But for that encounter with Mrs. Chattaway, the Hold would have been in ignorance of Rupert's movements that evening. He spent a very pleasant one. It happened that George Ryle called in also at the parsonage on Mr. Freeman, and was induced to remain. Mrs. Freeman was hospitable, and they sat down to a good supper, to which Rupert at least did justice. The up-train was due at Barbrook at ten o'clock, and George Ryle and Rupert accompanied Mr. Daw to it. The parson remained at home not caring to go out at night, unless called forth by duty. They reached the station five minutes before the hour, and Mr. Daw took his ticket and waited for the train. Waited a long time. Ten o'clock struck, and the minutes went on and on. George, who was pacing the narrow platform with him, drew Rupert aside and spoke. "Should you not get back to the Hold? Chattaway may lock you out again." "Let him," carelessly answered Rupert. "I shall get in somehow, I dare say." It was not George's place to control Rupert Trevlyn, and they paced the platform as before, talking with Mr. Daw. Half-past ten, and no train! The porters stood about, looking and wondering; the station-master was fidgety, wanting to get home to bed. "Will it come at all?" asked Mr. Daw, whose patience appeared exemplary. "Oh, it'll come, safe enough," replied one of the two porters. "It never keeps its time, this train don't: but it's not often as late as this." "Why does it not keep its time?" "It has got to wait at Layton's Heath for a cross-train; and if that don't keep its time--and it never do--this one can't." With which satisfactory explanation, the porter made a dash into a shed, and appeared to be busy with what looked like a collection of dark lanthorns. "I shall begin to wish I had taken my departure this afternoon, as I intended, if this delay is to be much prolonged," remarked Mr. Daw. Even as he spoke, there were indications of the arrival of the train. At twenty minutes to eleven it came up, and the station-master gave some sharp words to the guard. The guard returned them in kind; its want of punctuality was not his fault. Mr. Daw took his seat, and George and Rupert hastened away to their respective homes. But it was nearly eleven o'clock and Rupert, in spite of his boasted bravery, did fear the wrath of Mr. Chattaway.