e need in our basket.
You can, however, if you will be so kind, send us some tea." This
decision being in accordance with Jeanne-Armande's own rules, she did
not like to contravene it, in spite of the satisfaction it would have
given her to enter the supper-room with her decorous brown glove
reposing upon such a coat sleeve. Heathcote bowed, and went out. Anne
watched his figure entering the doorway of the brightly lighted
supper-room, which was separated by a wide space from the waiting train.
Then she turned.

"Mademoiselle," she said, her burning haste contrasting with her clear
calm utterance of the moment before, "I beg you to leave this train with
me without one instant's delay. The peace of my whole life depends upon
it."

"What _can_ you mean?" said the bewildered teacher.

"I can not explain now; I will, later. But if you have any regard for
me, any compassion, come at once."

"But our bags, our--"

"I will take them all."

"And our trunks--they are checked through to Valley City. Will there be
time to take them off?" said Jeanne-Armande, confusedly. Then, with more
clearness, "But why should we go at all? I have no money to spend on
freaks."

[Illustration: "IT IS, OR SHOULD BE, OVER THERE."]

"This is Stringhampton Junction; we can cross here to the northern road,
as you originally intended," explained Anne, rapidly. "All the
additional expense I will pay. Dear mademoiselle, have pity on me,
and come. Else I shall go alone."

The voice was eloquent; Jeanne-Armande rose. Anne hurried her through
the almost empty car toward the rear door.

"But where _are_ we going?"

"Out of the light," answered Anne.

They climbed down in the darkness on the other side of the train, and
Anne led the way across the tracks at random, until they reached a safe
country road-side beyond, and felt the soft grass under their feet.

"Where _are_ we going?" said the Frenchwoman again, almost in tears.
"Monsieur Heathcote--what will he think of us?"

"It is from him I am fleeing," replied Anne. "And now we must find the
cross-road train. Do you know where it is?"

"It is, or should be, over there," said Jeanne-Armande, waving her
umbrella tragically.

But she followed: the young girl had turned leader now.

They found the cross-road train, entered, and took their seats. And then
Anne feverishly counted the seconds, expecting with each one to see
Heathcote's face at the door. But the little branch train did not wa