"Why, of course," I said. "But what have you done with your bicycle?"
"It has come to grief," he said. "I had a spill—oh, don't be alarmed, it was nothing serious! I was coming down a hill near Maldon; there was a sharp bend, and rounding it incautiously, I came into collision with a wagon which was right across the road."
"Oh, how dangerous!" I exclaimed. "Are you sure you were not hurt?"
"Oh, I wrenched my shoulder a bit and got a few bruises," he said; "but I jumped off, you see, and the machine got the brunt of it. Of course, I could not ride it afterwards, so I had to get back to Chelmsford in a roundabout way by rail, and I have now left my machine to be repaired."
"How fortunate that I can give you a lift!" I said. "I have just been seeing father off."
"I am sorry Mr. Darracott has gone," he said. "I like your father, Miss Nan."
"And he likes you," was on the tip of my tongue, but I did not say it. His remark, however, so set me at ease that I began to talk to him about my home and my people as I had never done before.
"Oh, you can't think," I said with a sudden burst of confidence, "how I long to see them all again. Father says I must go up one day soon."
"I wonder you have not been before," said Alan Faulkner; "it is so easy to run up to town from here. And your sisters—why do they not come and spend the day sometimes?"
