ird-class ticket." Meg
looked very prim.

Miles produced his ticket--it _was_ third-class.

"There!" he said triumphantly.

"You would be much more comfortable in a smoker."

"So would you. We'll take a smoker; I've got the sort of cigarette you
like."

At the junction they got a smoker, and Miles saw to it that they had it
to themselves; he also persuaded the guard to give Meg a square wooden
box to put her feet on, because he thought the seats were too high for
her.

It seemed a very short journey.

Major Morton was awaiting Meg when they arrived; a little gentleman
immaculately neat (it was quite clear whence Meg got her love of detail
and finish)--who looked both washed-out and dried-up. He embraced her
with considerable solemnity, exclaiming, "God bless you, my dear child!
You look better than I expected."

"Papa, dear, here is Captain Middleton, a friend from Amber Guiting. We
happened to travel together."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," said the little Major graciously; and
somehow Miles contrived in two minutes so to ingratiate himself with
Meg's "poor little papa" that they all walked out of the station
together as a matter of course.

Then came the question of plans.

Meg had shopping to do, declared she had a list as long as her arm, but
was entirely at her father's disposal as to whether she should do it
before or after lunch.

Miles boldly suggested she should do it now, at once, while it was still
fairly cool, and then she could have all her parcels sent to the station
to meet her. He seemed quite eager to get rid of Meg. The little Major
agreed that this would be the best course. He would stroll round to his
club while Meg was shopping, and meet her when she thought she would
have finished. They walked to the promenade and dropped her at Cavendish
House. Miles, explaining that he had to go to Smith's to look at a
horse, asked for directions from the Major. Their way was the same, and
without so much as bidding her farewell, Miles strolled up one of the
prettiest promenades in England in company with her father. Meg felt
rather dazed.

She prided herself on having reduced shopping to a fine art, but to-day,
somehow, she didn't get through as quickly as usual, and there was a
number of items on her list still unticked when it was time to meet her
father just outside his club at the top of the promenade.

Major Morton was the essence of punctuality. Meg flew to meet him, and
found he had wai