Unconsciously the old man helped her.
"You look pale this morning, my dear," he said, patting her shoulder. "Go and run in the meadows and get some color on your cheeks; I miss it."
Stella took up her hat, which was generally lying about ready to be snatched up, and kissed him without a word, and left the room.
Five minutes afterward she passed out into the lane and hurried toward the road.
Frank was waiting for her with boyish impatience.
"I thought you were never coming!" he exclaimed. "We haven't over much time," and he slung the two bags together and led the way; but Stella paused a moment to look back with a pang at her heart, and it was not until Frank seized her arm that she moved toward the railway station.
But once there, when the tickets were taken, the excitement buoyed her up. Frank, with the two bags, was perpetually on the alert, watching for someone they knew, and preparing to meet them with some excuse.
But no one of the village people appeared on the platform, and much to Frank's relief, the train drew up.
With all the pride of a chief conspirator and guardian, he put Stella into a carriage and was stepping in after her, when a groom came up to the door and touched his hat.
"Mr. Etheridge—Mr. Frank Etheridge, sir?" he said, respectfully.