When the train came in, one porter dashed forward to secure window-seats in an empty carriage, another hurried up with rugs and handbags; groups of people standing upon the platform looked after the two girls with kindly glances; everybody seemed kind and interested, as though understanding the nature of their expedition, and wishing them good-speed.
They sat opposite to each other, gazing out of their respective windows, or making an affectation of reading the magazines which lay littered about the seat; but the end was always the same, their eyes met in irrepressible smiles, and they began to talk once more.
Real life was so much more interesting than romance!
“I feel so very Lucille-y!” Mollie declared “Travelling on pleasure, with a tea-basket coming to meet me! It was an inspiration of yours to order it, Ruth! I shall be grateful to you to the end of my life! Let’s talk about what we shall do to-night... Let’s guess who will be there, and what they will be like. The lady chaperon, now! Should you think that the presence of a chaperon implied that there would be young men in the party? I hope there are.”
“So do I,” assented Ruth frankly. “But I fancy that they are more likely to be old. Some nieces and nephews of Aunt Edna’s, about mother’s age, perhaps—middle-aged couples, with caps and spectacles. How will you feel if we are the only young people there?”
“I refuse to imagine anything so ghastly! The couples may have children, mayn’t they? I imagine a charming girl who has no sisters, and who will adopt us as her dearest friends, and ask us to stay with her. I rather think she will be dark, and wear eyeglasses, and have a brother who is musical, and has a tenor voice. Then there will be another man—Sir Somebody or other, who has a big estate in the county. He will be very superior at first, and take no notice of us, but in the end he will be conquered by our modest charms and become a devoted admirer. Perhaps there may be some couples, but they will be young and festive, and the chaperon will be a dear old thing with side-ringlets, who will let us do as we like, and take our part with the old man. That sounds about the right thing, doesn’t it?”
Ruth smiled happily.
“Ah, well! whoever we meet, I am going to enjoy myself. A change, a change—that’s what I wanted. Everything will be different, and there’s a world of refreshment in that alone. How thankful I am that Uncle Bernard asked us both, Mollie! It’s half the fun to talk things over together.”
She lay back in her corner, and gazed out of the window once more, smiling dreamily as a whirl of thoughts flew through her mind. What would have happened before she travelled once more past these flying landmarks? What new friendships would be formed—what experiences undergone—what matters of importance revealed?
Life seemed all to lie ahead; yet from time to time her thoughts drifted back unconsciously to Donald Maclure, and lingered on the memory. She had not seen him since the eventful afternoon, but Eleanor had conveyed his good wishes for a happy visit, and her manner showed she was in ignorance of what had occurred.