u can go into and what rooms you're to keep out of. There's
gardens enough. But when you're in the house don't go wandering and
poking about. Mr. Craven won't have it."

"I shall not want to go poking about," said sour little Mary; and just
as suddenly as she had begun to be rather sorry for Mr. Archibald Craven
she began to cease to be sorry and to think he was unpleasant enough to
deserve all that had happened to him.

And she turned her face toward the streaming panes of the window of the
railway carriage and gazed out at the gray rain-storm which looked as if
it would go on forever and ever. She watched it so long and steadily
that the grayness grew heavier and heavier before her eyes and she fell
asleep.

CHAPTER III

ACROSS THE MOOR

She slept a long time, and when she awakened Mrs. Medlock had bought a
lunchbasket at one of the stations and they had some chicken and cold
beef and bread and butter and some hot tea. The rain seemed to be
streaming down more heavily than ever and everybody in the station wore
wet and glistening waterproofs. The guard lighted the lamps in the
carriage, and Mrs. Medlock cheered up very much over her tea and chicken
and beef. She ate a great deal and afterward fell asleep herself, and
Mary sat and stared at her and watched her fine bonnet slip on one side
until she herself fell asleep once more in the corner of the carriage,
lulled by the splashing of the rain against the windows. It was quite
dark when she awakened again. The train had stopped at a station and
Mrs. Medlock was shaking her.

"You have had a sleep!" she said. "It's time to open your eyes! We're at
Thwaite Station and we've got a long drive before us."

Mary stood up and tried to keep her eyes open while Mrs. Medlock
collected her parcels. The little girl did not offer to help her,
because in India native servants always picked up or carried things and
it seemed quite proper that other people should wait on one.

The station was a small one and nobody but themselves seemed to be
getting out of the train. The station-master spoke to Mrs. Medlock in a
rough, good-natured way, pronouncing his words in a queer broad fashion
which Mary found out afterward was Yorkshire.

"I see tha's got back," he said. "An' tha's browt th' young 'un with
thee."

"Aye, that's her," answered Mrs. Medlock, speaking with a Yorkshire
accent herself and jerking her head over her shoulder toward Mary.
"How's thy Missus?"

"We