he sea-line.

Suddenly mademoiselle remembered the time, and, looking at her watch,
declared they had but a few minutes in which to get to the train, and
that they must run if they wished to catch it. Off they started,
mademoiselle panting in the rear, calling upon the girls to wait, and
gasping out that it would be of no use to arrive without her. They
were extremely glad on arriving at the terminus to see that they had
still a minute or two to spare.

"We are in time for the train?" mademoiselle asked of a _gendarme_
standing near the station house.

The man stared at her.

"Certainly, madame," he said at last; "but would it not be as well to
come here in the morning?"

"In the morning!" she echoed. "You foolish fellow! We want to go by
this train--it should be here now--it leaves at 7.30."

"Ah!" the man said, and he seemed to understand. "I fear you have lost
_that_ train by several days; it went last Sunday."

"What!" screamed mademoiselle. "How dare you mock me! I will report
you."

"That must be as madame wishes," returned the man with horrible
calmness; "but the train madame wishes to get only runs on Sundays,
and, therefore, she must wait several days for the next. If any other
train will do, there is one in the morning at 9.30."

Barbara wanted to laugh, but consideration--or fear--of Mademoiselle
Therese--kept her quiet, and they stood gazing at one another in
sorrowful silence. A ten-mile walk at 7.30 in the evening, unless with
very choice companions, is not an unmitigated pleasure, especially when
one has been walking during the day. However, there was nothing for it
but to walk, as a conveyance, if obtainable, would have been too
expensive for Mademoiselle Therese's economical ideas.

They declared at first that it was a lovely evening, and began to cheer
their way by sprightly conversation, but a mile or two of dusty
highroad told upon them, and silence fell with the darkness. It was a
particularly hot evening too, and great heat, as every one knows,
frequently tends to irritation, so perhaps their silence was judicious.
Mademoiselle Therese kept murmuring at intervals that it really was
most annoying, as her sister would have been expecting them much
earlier, and would be so vexed. Perhaps visions of a second
retirement, which no "family friend" would come to relieve, floated
before her eyes.

More than half the distance had been covered when they heard the sound
of wheels beh