The gardeners had vanished from the steps where they went down, and none were seen in the grounds. Joan of Arc clutched Caroline's waist. "Now--now!" she said, between her teeth; "now is the time not to faint! I never fainted--never. Come and show me that hole in the fence. There is no one about. But don't run." They hurried across the sunlit, smiling terrace. "What was the matter?" Caroline queried fearfully, "was she--was she--" "Yes," said Joan brusquely. "Yes. Don't think about it. Don't run and don't think. Only find the hole." They stood beside it. No one was near them; no one called to them. Silently Caroline slid under the sharp prongs. Joan of Arc put her hands under her skirt a moment and a white ruffled petticoat slipped around her feet. She adjusted it over her dress and pulled herself with difficulty through. As she stood erect in the soiled, stained petticoat, Caroline saw her knees, tremble under it, and she drooped against the fence, white-cheeked. "Don't faint," she said severely to Caroline. With shaking hands she tied the petticoat under her dress again and they crouched through the underbrush to the outer walk. Caroline reached for her wheel and the two peered fearfully up and down the empty road. "I can't--I can't," the girl moaned, "my dress is so black--they can see it from the hill. Oh, what shall I do? I thought I could, and I can't!" The measured trot of a pair of horses sounded on the road. An empty station wagon came rapidly toward them; groom and driver regarded them curiously. The girl straightened herself and raised her hand with a pretty, imperious gesture. "One moment, please," she said, "but are you going to the village?" "Yes, Miss," said the driver, "to the station. Was there anything--" She opened a bag at her side and took out carelessly a small gold piece. "My little friend here," she said, in an even, low voice, "was showing me this beautiful building and grounds and I utterly neglected to note the time. I fear I have lost my train, if we try to walk back. If you could take us--" "Certainly, Miss," said the driver. "William, put the young lady's wheel on top. Was it the express you wanted, Miss? I'm to meet it--the 2.08. Party from Boston." They climbed in, the bicycle settled noisily into the trunk-rack on top, and the big chestnuts pounded down the hill. Joan stared straight before her. Presently she drew a pair of black gloves from her little bag and put them on. Her lips moved steadily, and Caroline knew from her closed eyes that she was praying. They drew into the neat station as the train Snorted itself in. The girl handed the gold piece to the driver. "Divide it, please," she said calmly. "I am much obliged." She walked to the drawing-room car, and signaled the black porter. "I shall be safe to-night," she said softly, to the child by her side, "and I won't tell you my name, because it will not be mine much longer. But what is yours? Tell me quick!"