ockets, but all the coins I had were a sixpenny and a
threepenny piece--not enough to pay for a night's lodging, I was sure.
The cabman's extortion, and a half-crown I had given to the porter at
Paddington in my haste, had reduced me to this.

What should I do? I was not long deciding to walk on. Perhaps they would
guess what had happened at home and send to meet me. The spice of
adventure appealed to me. If I had gone back to the porter he would
probably have taken me to the hotel, and they would have trusted me. But
I did not think of that--I imagine I did not want to think of it. I had
been used to country roads all my life, and it was a perfect evening in
late July.

My way lay straight into the heart of the setting sun as I took the
road. In a clear sky, all pale yellow and pink and green, the sun was
disappearing behind the line of beech-covered hills which lay between me
and home, but behind me the moon--as yet only like a tiny round white
cloud--was rising.

I felt like dancing along the road at first. The sense of freedom was
intoxicating. The scent of wild honeysuckle and cluster roses came from
the hedgerows. I ate my buns as I walked along; I had made three and a
half miles by the milestones in the first hour, and enjoyed every step
of the way.

"If they don't meet me," I thought, "how astonished they will be when I
walk in! It will be something to brag of for many a day, to have walked
fifteen miles after eight o'clock at night."

The daylight had faded, but the moon was so bright and clear that the
shadows of my solitary figure and the "telegraph-postes" were as black
and sharp as at noonday. Bats were flitting about up and down. A white
owl flew silently across the road. Rabbits were playing in the fields in
the silver light. It was all very beautiful, but a little lonely and
eerie. I hadn't passed a house for a mile.

Then I heard wheels behind me.

If it were some kind person who would give me a lift!

But I heard a lash used cruelly, and a rough, hoarse voice swearing at
the horse.

I hurried on, but of course the cart overtook me in a minute.

The man pulled up. He leaned down out of the cart to look at me, and I
saw his coarse, flushed face and watery eyes.

"Want a lift, my dear?" he asked.

"No, thank you," I answered, "I much prefer walking."

"Too late for a gal like you to be out," he said; "you jump up and drive
along o' me."

"No, thank you," I repeated, walking on as fast as