"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.
