The train was on the point of starting, and Violet leaned out of the window and put her arms around her father's neck and kissed him. It seemed to her that until that moment of parting she had never known how very dear he was to her. "God bless and keep you, Violet," he whispered tenderly; "Good-bye, my darling."
"Good-bye, father—dear, dear father," she replied huskily as she was obliged to unclasp her arms and take her seat.
The train moved slowly out of the station, and Violet sank back in her corner. For a few minutes she saw nothing, for her eyes were blind with tears; but, when her sight cleared, she glanced at her companions and was much relieved to find that they were taking no notice of her. The lady opposite had opened a newspaper which she was already reading, and the other two occupants of the compartment were seated one on either side of the far window, out of which they were gazing.
By-and-by Violet began to carefully study the figure opposite to her. The lady was plainly dressed in a blue serge gown underneath a heavy blue cloak which was somewhat the worse for wear, and the rug across her knees was decidedly shabby though it looked as if it might be warm and comfortable. She wore an old-fashioned bonnet, and her white hair was brushed back smoothly from her face—a plain face it was, with a large nose, and a large mouth, and heavily marked eyebrows. Violet had a very good opportunity for making her observations, for the lady continued reading for fully an hour, never glancing at her once; at length, however, she laid aside her paper and spoke.
"I am sure he is a very good father," she remarked, as though pursuing a train of thought; "he seemed very sorry to part with his little girl. I suppose you are going to school, child?" she questioned.
"No—yes—not exactly," Violet replied, flushing sell-consciously beneath the intent gaze of a pair of very bright, dark eyes. "I am going to be educated at Helmsford College," she explained, with a little air of importance, "but I am not going to be a boarder there, I am to live with friends."
"That will be pleasant for you. You have never been away from home before, I conclude?"
"No, never; and—and I can't help feeling a bit lonely, you know."
"You are not an only child?"
"Oh, no! There are five of us; I am the eldest but one. Do you know Barford very well?" Violet inquired, thinking it was her turn to put a question.