Dolly was kneeling up on the front seat of the cab enjoying herself after the manner of children, and was quite sorry when, after an extra whip-up of his poor horse, the cabman drove into the station.
They were in good time, and soon Nellie was placed in her corner, and Mrs. Arundel and Dolly stood close to the carriage window, sending messages to grandmamma and Aunt Ruth, and hoping she would not forget to write.
"Now, mamma," said Nellie, leaning out of the still open door, "you will not let the thought of your visit to the Lakes slip away to nothing, will you?"
"Oh no, dear; I do not suppose so. I believe papa fully intends it."
Nellie gave her a loving look, but just then the guard came to shut the door, and they drew back. Then Dolly was lifted by her mamma for one more kiss, Nellie pressed her lips on the dear face which always was so peaceful and true, and then there was a whistle, a strange little pause on the platform, and insensibly, almost, the train moved on, and Mrs. Arundel, and Dolly, and London were left behind.
[CHAPTER IV.]
A VISIT TO FAIRLEIGH.
WHEN Nellie's train steamed into the station at Shellford, she caught sight of her grandmamma's little pony carriage waiting outside, and before she had time to open the door, a young lady came up to it, and said pleasantly, "Are you Miss Arundel?"
"Yes," said Nellie, gathering her packages together and quickly alighting, "grandmamma said you would meet me."