“Come in here, miss, and I’ll see that he don’t annoy you again. Why didn’t you speak sooner? Only wish I was going up to London, I’d see you safe home, that I would, miss; only, you see, I should lose my berth if I was absent without leave; and that wouldn’t do, would it? May p’r’aps now, for that chap’s a regular swell: come down here last week, and been staying at old Sir Henry Warr’s, at the Beeches; but I don’t care; I only did what was right—did I, miss?”
“Indeed, I thank you very, very much!” exclaimed the protected one, holding out a little hand, which was eagerly seized. “It was very kind; and I do sincerely hope I may not have been the cause—”
Here a sob choked further utterance.
“Don’t you mind about that,” said the young man loftily, and feeling very exultant and self-satisfied. “I’d lose half a dozen berths to please you, miss—I would, ’pon my word. Don’t you take on about that. I’m your humble servant to command; and let’s see if he’ll speak to you again on my platform, that’s all!”
Here the young man—very young man—breathed hard, stared hard, and blushed; for his anger having somewhat evaporated, he now began to think that he had been very chivalrous, and that he had fallen in love with this beautiful girl, whom it was his duty to protect evermore: feelings, however, not at all shared by the lady, who, though very grateful, was most earnestly wishing herself safely at her destination. The embarrassing position was, however, ended by the young station-master, who suddenly exclaimed:
“Here she comes!”
Then he led the way, pulling up his collar and scowling very fiercely till they reached the platform, where the exquisite was languidly pacing up and down.
“Now, you take my advice, miss,” said the protector: “you jump into the first cab as soon as you get into the terminus, and have yourself driven home: I’ll see that you ain’t interfered with going up. I wish I was going with you; and, ’pon my word, miss, I should like to see you again.”
“Indeed, I thank you very much,” said the stranger. “You have acted very nobly; and though you may never again be thanked by me, you will have the reward of knowing that you have protected a sister in distress.”
She laid a stress upon the word “sister,” as if referring to the young fellow’s manly reply to the dandy. But now “she”—that is to say, the train—had glided up, when, turning smartly—