mily. This had only been a few months
ago, but to Mavis it seemed long years: she had experienced so much in
the time. Then it occurred to her how often Archie Windebank had walked
on the same platform--Archie Windebank, who was now on the sea so many
hundreds of miles from where she stood. She wondered if he ever found
time to think of her. She sighed.

Seeing that the station-master was disengaged, she approached the
spectacled, dapper little man and told him of her wants.

"Would it be for long?" he asked.

"Possibly for years. I'm coming to work here."

"Work!"

"In the office of one of Mr Devitt's companies."

The man assumed an air of some deference.

"Mr Devitt! Our leading inhabitant--sings baritone," remarked the
station-master.

"Indeed!"

"A fair voice, but a little undisciplined in the lower register. This
is quite between ourselves."

"Of course. Do you think you can help me to find rooms?"

"I wish I could. Let me think."

Mr Medlicott, as he was called, put the tips of his fingers together,
while he reflected. Mavis watched his face for something in the nature
of encouragement.

"Dear! dear! dear! dear!" he complained.

"Don't bother. It's good of you to think of it at all," said Mavis.

"Stay! I have it. Why didn't I think of it before? Mrs Farthing: the
very thing."

"Where does she live?"

"The Pennington side of Melkbridge--over a mile from here; but I know
you'd find there everything that you desire."

"Thanks. I'll leave my boxes here and walk there."

"I can save you the trouble. Her husband is guard on the 4.52. If you
can fill up the time till then, it will save you walking all that way,
perhaps, for no purpose."

Mavis thanked the station-master, left her luggage in his care and
walked to the town, where the unmistakable London cut of her well-worn
clothes attracted the attention of the female portion of the
population. She had a cup of tea in a confectioner's, and felt better
for it. She then set out to walk to her old favourite nook on the banks
of the river, a spot rich with associations of her childhood. Her
nearest way was to walk across the churchyard to the meadows, the third
of which bordered the Avon. It only needed a quarter of an hour's walk
along its banks to find the place she wanted. Unconsciously, her steps
led her in a contrary direction from that in which she had purposed
going. Almost before she knew what she had done, she had taken the road
to Hayco