IN WHICH CASSANDRA GOES TO QUEENSDERRY AND TAKES A DRIVE IN A PONY CARRIAGE
Glad to be borne away from the city and out through fresh green fields and past pretty church-spired villages, alone in the compartment, Cassandra comforted herself with her baby, playing with him until he dropped to sleep, when she made a bed for him on the car seat with rugs, and, taking out her purse, began to count her remaining resources. Her bill at the hotel had appalled her. So much to pay to stay only a night! What would David say? But he had told her to use the money as she liked, and now she was here, there was nothing else to do.
Laboriously she computed the amount in English money, and, reckoned thus, her dollars and cents seemed to shrink and vanish. Still, more than half remained of what she had brought with her, and she viewed the matter calmly.
The shadows fell long over the smooth greensward as she arrived in the village of Queensderry and was driven to a small inn, the only house of entertainment in the place. She was given a pleasant room overlooking fields and orchards and bright gardens, and the sight rested her eyes, and still further calmed her troubled heart. She would rest to-night, and to-morrow all would be well.
Never had food tasted better to her than the supper served in her pretty room,—toast in a silver rack, and fresh butter, such as David loved, and curds and whey, and gingerbread, and a small jar of marmalade. She ate, seated in the window, looking out over the sweet English landscape in the warm twilight—the breeze stirring the white curtains—her little son in her lap gurgling and smiling up at her—and her heart with David, wherever he might be.
Slowly the dusk veiled all, and one star glimmered above the slender church spire. A pretty maid brought candles and a book in which she was asked to write her name. She was the landlady's daughter and looked wholesome and bright. Cassandra glanced in her face as she set the candles down, and took up the pen mechanically.
"Mother says will you sign here, please?"
"Yes." Cassandra turned the leaves slowly and read other names and addresses—many of them. She wrote "Cassandra Merlin—" and paused; then, making a long dash, added simply, "America," and, handing back the book and pen, turned again to the window.
"Thank you. Is that all?" said the maid, lingering.
"Yes," said Cassandra again; then she laid her baby on the bed and began taking his night clothing from her bag.