had started from the same
station on the same route; but there was no Tardif at hand now. As I
went into the ticket-office, Minima caught me by the dress and whispered
earnestly into my ear.

"We're not to travel first-class," she said; "it costs too much. Mrs.
Wilkinson said we ought to go third, if we could; and you're to pay for
me, please, only half-price, and they'll pay you again when we reach the
school. I'll come with you, and then they'll see I'm only half-price. I
don't look too old, do I?"

"You look very old," I answered, smiling at her anxious face.

"Oh, dear, dear!" she said; "but I sit very small. Perhaps I'd better
not come to the ticket-office; the porters are sure to think me only a
little girl."

She was uneasy until we had fairly started from the station, her right
to a half-ticket unchallenged.

The November night was cold and foggy, and there was little difference
between the darkness of the suburbs and the darkness of the open
country.

Once again the black hulls and masts of two steamers stood before us, at
the end of our journey, and hurrying voices shouted, "This way for
Jersey and Guernsey," "This way to Havre." What would I not have given
to return to Sark, to my quiet room under Tardif's roof, with his true
heart and steadfast friendship to rest upon! But that could not be. My
feet were setting out upon a new track, and I did not know where the
hidden path would lead me.

The next morning found us in France. It was a soft, sunny day, with a
mellow light, which seemed to dwell fondly on the many-tinted leaves of
the trees which covered the banks of the Seine. From Honfleur to Falaise
the same warm, genial sunshine filled the air. The slowly-moving train
carried us through woods where the autumn seemed but a few days old, and
where the slender leaflets of the acacias still fluttered in the
caressing breath of the wind. We passed through miles upon miles of
orchards, where a few red leaves were hanging yet upon the knotted
branches of the apple-trees, beneath which lay huge pyramids of apples.
Truck-loads of them stood at every station. The air was scented by them.
Children were pelting one another with them; and here and there, where
the orchards had been cleared and the trees stripped, flocks of geese
were searching for those scattered among the tufts of grass. The roses
were in blossom, and the chrysanthemums were in their first glory. The
few countrywomen who got into our carriage