hot journey."

"Where's your luggage?" continued Mrs Forrest, as she kissed her niece.
"Did you walk up from the station, and leave it there?"

"Oh no, aunt; I didn't know the way," said Anna.

She began to feel afraid she had done quite the wrong thing in coming
with Mr Oswald.

"Oh, you had to take a fly," said Mrs Forrest. "It's a most provoking
thing altogether."

"It doesn't really matter much, my dear, does it?" said Mr Forrest, as
he placed a chair for his niece. "She's managed to get here without any
accident, although you did not meet her.--Suppose you give us some tea."

"I took the trouble to make a note of the train and day," continued Mrs
Forrest, "and I repeated them twice to Bernard, so that there should be
no mistake."

"Well, you couldn't have done more," said Mr Forrest, soothingly.
"Bernard always was a forgetful fellow, you know."

"Such a very unsuitable thing for the child to arrive quite alone at the
station, and no one to meet her there! And I had made all my
arrangements for to-morrow so carefully."

As Anna drank her tea, she listened to all this, and intended every
moment to mention that Mr Oswald had driven her from the station, but
she was held back by a mixture of shyness and fear of what her aunt
would say; perhaps she had done something very silly, and what Mrs
Forrest would call unsuitable! At any rate, it was easier just now to
leave her under the impression that she had taken a fly; but, of course,
directly she got a chance, she would tell her all about it. For some
time, however, Mrs Forrest continued to lament that her arrangements
had not been properly carried out, and when the conversation did change,
Anna had a great many questions to answer about her father and his
intended journey. Then a message was brought out to her uncle, over
which he and Mrs Forrest bent in grave consultation. She had now
leisure to look about her. How pretty it all was! The long, low front
of the Vicarage stood facing her, with the smooth green lawn between
them, and up the supports of the veranda there were masses of climbing
plants in full bloom. The old part of the house had a very deep,
red-tiled roof, with little windows poking out of it here and there, and
the wing which the present Vicar had built stood at right angles to it.
Anna thought her father was right in not admiring the new bit as much as
the old, but, nevertheless, with the evening light resting on it, it all
looked