Oldburgh Station! They were stopping at last, and she was on her feet, pressing to the window between the strangers. One of the gentlemen kindly made signs to the porter to let her out, and asked if she had any baggage, or anyone to meet her. She thanked him by a smile and shake of the head; she could not speak for the beating of her heart; she felt almost as much upon the world as when the door in Bruton Street had shut behind her; and besides, a terrible wild fancy had seized her—suppose, just suppose, they were all gone away, or ill, or someone dead! Perhaps she felt it would serve her right, and that was the reason she was in such terror.
CHAPTER XII.
When Kate had left the train, she was still two miles from St. James’s; and it was half-past three o’clock, so that she began to feel that she had run away without her dinner, and that the beatings of her heart made her knees ache, so that she had no strength to walk.
She thought her best measure would be to make her way to a pastry-cook’s shop that looked straight down the street to the Grammar School, and where it was rather a habit of the family to meet Charlie when they had gone into the town on business, and wanted to walk out with him. He would be out at four o’clock, and there would not be long to wait. So, feeling shy, and even more guilty and frightened than on her first start, Kate threaded the streets she knew so well, and almost gasping with nervous alarm, popped up the steps into the shop, and began instantly eating a bun, and gazing along the street. She really could not speak till she had swallowed a few mouthfuls; and then she looked up to the woman, and took courage to ask if the boys were out of school yet.
“Oh, no, Miss; not for a quarter of an hour yet.”
“Do you know if—if Master Charles Wardour is there to-day?” added Kate, with a gulp.
“I don’t, Miss.” And the woman looked hard at her.
“Do you know if any of them—any of them from St. James’s, are in to-day?”
“No, Miss; I have not seen any of them, but very likely they may be. I saw Mr. Wardour go by yesterday morning.”
So far they were all well, then; and Kate made her mind easier, and went on eating like a hungry child till the great clock struck four; when she hastily paid for her cakes and tarts, put on her gloves, and stood on the step, half in and half out of the shop, staring down the street. Out came the boys in a rush, making straight for the shop, and brushing past Kate; she, half alarmed, half affronted, descended from her post, still looking intently. Half a dozen more big fellows, eagerly talking, almost tumbled over her, and looked as if she had no business there; she seemed to be quite swept off the pavement into the street, and to be helpless in the midst of a mob, dashing around her. They might begin to tease her in a minute; and more terrified than at any moment of her journey, she was almost ready to cry, when the tones of a well-known voice came on her ear close to her—“I say, Will, you come and see my new terrier;” and before the words were uttered, with a cry of, “Charlie, Charlie!” she was clinging to a stout boy who had been passing without looking at her.