* * * * *
The journey had seemed long to Margaret Woodford, as, occupied with her sad thoughts, she gazed out of the carriage windows, taking only a languid interest in the stations she passed.
She was still feeling the terrible shock of her father's death and failure, and the loss of the dear old home.
This venture into the great unknown world was a great trial, and it required all her courage to face it as bravely as she was doing.
Her heart glowed with gratitude towards Mrs. Crane, as she thought of her parting words: "Remember, you are not to stay if you are not happy, but to come back to us, and we will look for something else for you."
Happy! She didn't expect to be that, but she would try to be content and to do her duty; she was sure the promise was hers, "I will be with thee in all places whithersoever thou goest." God knew the way that she took, and He would direct her path. That was the one great fact which sustained Margaret Woodford's courage as she faced the world alone for the first time in her life.
She had started for London that morning from her old home in the North, and travelled by the 4.15 from town, and now in the fading afternoon light she caught her first glimpse of the garden of England, as the train steamed past country lanes, cherry orchards, and hop grounds rising into renewed life as the season advanced.
The only other occupants of her carriage appeared to be two farmers—at least she judged they were of that persuasion, by the agricultural topics of conversation which seemed to engross them. Her interest was aroused by their eagerness and enthusiasm; one of them, drawing out of his pocket a little square parcel, hastily untied the string, and, handing it to his companion, said:
"'Taste that, and tell me what you think of it. I can assure you I never grew a finer sample."
Margaret expected to see something eatable, and was more than surprised to witness the man bury his nose in the parcel and, after drawing a deep breath, gasp.