And then the guard came up to assure himself of the young lady's safety, and to receive his tip. Hugo made it a large one. Kitty's luggage was already in the hands of a man whom she thought she recognised: she had seen him once or twice with Hugo, and once when she paid a state-call at Netherglen. Just as she was leaving the station, a thought occurred to her, and she turned back.
"I said I would telegraph to Mrs. Baxter as soon as I reached Muirside. Is it too late?"
"The office is shut, I think."
"I am so sorry! She will be anxious."
"Not if you telegraph first thing in the morning," said Hugo, soothingly. "Or—stay: I'll tell you what you can do. Come with me here, into the waiting-room—now you can write your message on a leaf of my pocket-book, and we will leave it with the station-master, to be sent off as soon as possible."
"What shall I say?" said Kitty, sitting down at the painted deal table, which was sparsely adorned with a water-bottle and a tract, and chafing her little cold hands. "Do write it for me, Hugo, please. My fingers are quite numb."
"Poor little fingers! You will be warmer soon," said Hugo, with more of his usual manner. "I will write in your name then. 'Arrived safely and found my father much better, but will write in a day or two and give particulars.' That does not tie you down, you see. You may be too busy to write to-morrow."
"Thank you. It will do very nicely."
She was left for a few minutes, whilst he went to the station-master with the message, and she took the opportunity of looking at herself in the glass above the mantelpiece, partly in order to see whether her bonnet was straight, partly in order to escape the stare of the waiting-room woman, who seemed to take a great deal of interest in her movements. Kitty was rather vexed when Hugo returned, to hear him say, in a very distinct tone:—
"Come, dearest. We shall be late if we don't set off at once."