“Why,” she argued, “should she not find her way about like other people? Had she not from childhood lived at Lymm, Cheshire, and roamed about that district without difficulty? Had she not frequently travelled to the old county city? Had she not braved the terrors of the Great Central Station at Manchester _en route_ for Halifax--changed carriages there, in fact? And had she not once actually journeyed all by herself to London on a visit, returning safely to her own town?” All of which was perfectly true, but she omitted to add that, in going up to town, her parents had, as it were, to see her “labelled and consigned” through the medium of a fatherly guard, while her friends in town had been strictly enjoined on no account to miss meeting her at Euston, and never to let her go anywhere in the metropolis unaccompanied. In fact, her family were in an agony of suspense until she was back again. Mrs. Rosamond had married a gentleman-farmer of Welsh extraction, and her life had fallen on pleasant lines in a remote Radnorshire village bearing an unpronounceable name made up of consonants. The year 1902 arrived, and with it, in June, an invitation from her sister-in-law to spend Coronation week with her in Edith Road, West Kensington; and off she started, her easy-going husband, who had seldom tested his wife’s sense (or absence) of locality, and had no suspicion of how much it was lacking, merely remarking as he saw her into the train, “Now, my dear, mind you wait at Paddington a reasonable time to see if Annie is there to meet you. She is not always punctual, and if she does not turn up, take a cab. Don’t attempt to get to Edith Road by omnibus or Underground Railway. You don’t know London, and a four-wheeler will be cheaper in the long run. Now, don’t forget this, there’s a dear little woman, or I shall worry all day long about you.” In the same carriage with her was a lady of uncertain age, whom Mrs. Rosamond quickly guessed to be unmarried and an “organiser”--one of those assertive, independent, “heel-less” women of the genus _plantigrade_, who know everything and want no assistance from anybody. Falling into conversation, Lilian Rosamond remarked that she hoped to see the King’s procession to the Abbey, a seat having long ago been secured for her, and that she had been told she would have to go a very long distance from the West End and might have to start by the first train on the Twopenny Tube to the Bank, and that then by _another_ Tube she somehow would get to the Borough High Street (where her “stand” was situated) by way of the “Elephant and Castle.”