In the excitement of the search Doris overturns her little luncheon basket, and, oblivious of the fact that the cork of her travelling flask has come out, and the milk it contains is quietly spreading itself out on the cushion until it comes to a little ridge in the leather, where it collects in a nice little pool, she leans distractedly out of the window to see the result of the hurried search which they are all making in all sorts of impossible places.
But at this critical moment, and just as the guard is about to blow his whistle, Dick, who has strolled off to look at the advertisements, appears on the scene, and Honor, suddenly remembering that she had intrusted him with the money for the ticket when first they arrived at the station, rushes at him and grasps his arm wildly.
"The ticket!" she gasps; "you've forgotten to take the ticket!"
"I haven't," returns Dick, much injured. "I thought I gave it to you. Oh, here it is; better late than never!" and with supreme indifference at the anxiety depicted on every face he hands it up to Doris, and at the same moment the train moves.
They all run along beside it for a second or two, but its pace soon gets beyond theirs, and they are left disconsolately on the platform, waving their hands to a white handkerchief which is fluttering from one of the windows, and is literally all of Doris that is now to be seen.
* * * * * * * * *
That same afternoon Hugh Horton runs down to bid them all farewell before leaving for Ireland the next day. He is naturally not in the best of spirits, and looks so gloomy and melancholy while reminding Molly of her promise regarding the slippers, that that young lady tells him plainly that if he cannot look a little more cheerful over it he shall not have them at all.
"Don't be unkind, Molly," remonstrates Honor.
"I'm not," replies the girl, reddening; "besides he is not going to Kamtchatka. I said I would make them if he went there, or to some other outlandish place."
"It does not matter, Molly, where one goes particularly, when leaving all one loves behind;" and Hugh sighs heavily. "It would be just as painful to me to take up my quarters in the next village merely, if I knew for certain that I should not see my mother or—or any of you for some long time to come."