Presently, in response to a demand from the doctor, a low-hung carriage drew out from the ranks of waiting vehicles, and into it was lifted, oh, so carefully! the inert form of the governess, and her head laid upon Mrs. Newton's lap.
Nan pressed close to the wheels.
"Can't I go with her?" she whispered.
Her companion gazed at her blankly for a moment. Then she seemed to realize the question, and answered it.
"No," she replied. "Get my machine, and—and hers, and see that some one carries them back for us—some man will do it."
Then without another word she turned her head away, and slowly, slowly the carriage moved and began its snail's-pace journey townward.
Nan looked helplessly about her.
"Won't some one take the bicycles home?" she pleaded.
She never knew who performed the office. She never cared. She gave some stranger her address without the slightest interest as to whether he was trustworthy or no, and then, mounting her own machine, she sped home as fast as the wheels would turn.
Thus it was that when the dreary little cavalcade reached home at last everything was in readiness for its reception.