So off the two electricians set, and after two days of business and sight-seeing in London, went down to Bexley. In the third-class carriage in which they travelled they were struck by the sight of a tall lady in mourning—a sort of compromise between a conventual and a secular bonnet over short fair hair, and holding on her lap a tiny little girl of about six years old, with a small, pinched, delicate face and slightly red hair, to whom she pointed out by name each spot they passed, herself wearing an earnest absorbed look of recognition as she pointed out familiar landmark after landmark till the darkness came down. Also there were two cages—one with a small pink cockatoo, and another with two budgerigars.
As the train began slackening Dolores exclaimed:
“There he is! Lance—!”
“Lance! Oh, Lance!” was echoed; and setting the child down, her companion almost fell across Agatha, and was at the window as the train stopped.
What happened in the next moment no one could quite tell; but as the door was torn open there was a mingled cry of “Angel!” and of “Lance!” and the traveller was in his arms, turning the next moment to lift out the frightened little girl, who clung tight round her neck; while Lance held out his hand with, “Dolores! Yes. This is Dolores, Angel, whom you have never seen.”
Each knew who the other was in a moment, and clasped hands in greeting, as well as they could with the one, and the other receiving bird-cages, handbags, umbrellas, and rugs from Agatha, whom, however, Lance relieved of them with a courteous, “Miss Prescott! You have come in for the arrival of my Australian sister! What luggage have you?” Wherewith all was absorbed in the recognition of boxes, and therewith a word or two to an old railway official, “My sister Angela.”
“Miss Angela! this is an unexpected pleasure!”
“Tom Lightfoot! is it you? You are not much altered. Mr. Dane, I should have known you anywhere!” with corresponding shakes of the hand.
“Yes, that’s ours. Oh, the birds! There they are! All right! Oh! not the omnibus, Lance! Let the traps go in that! Then Lena will like to stretch her legs, and I must revel in the old street.”
Dolores and Agatha felt it advisable to squeeze themselves with the bird-cages into the omnibus, and leave the brother and sister to walk down together, though the little girl still adhered closely to her protector’s hand.