"You should have thought of that before."
"My darling boy, think how busy I have been all this morning, preparing—"
The rest was lost, for the vicar had driven away. His cold eyes were quite gentle, but he did draw in his breath sharply once; at the thought, perhaps, of this helpmeet of his, in this remote village, where nothing ever interrupted her simple routine of duties—incapable of being ready for a drive at three o'clock in the afternoon.
The old mare had to step out. Mrs. Cooper had succeeded in making her husband ten minutes late; and nine miles of very bad road lay between him and the Junction. The train which was to bring his niece was just coming to a standstill in the little wayside station, as the old mare, conscious of having been hustled, trotted into the station-yard.
The vicar hastened through the booking-office, out upon the asphalte platform, whereon a small, slender girl in black stood lonely beside some solid-looking packing-cases and one modest trunk. She wore her left arm in a sling. He came slowly forward, with a resolute smile of greeting on his face.
"Are you Melicent?"
She raised her eyes searchingly to his face. "Yes, I am."
"You are not at all like your mother," he said, scanning the pale face.
"No; father did not think me like her."
"You have managed your journey well?"