."

The stranger hesitated a moment.

"An emigrant car full of Galicians is rather a rough sort of
place--especially at this early hour in the morning. But if you
don't mind--"

"I don't mind anything. Yerkes, is that _all_ the milk?".

"All to speak of, my lady," said Yerkes, nimbly retreating to his den.

Elizabeth shook her head as she looked at the milk. But her visitor
laughed.

"The baby won't get through that to-day. It's a regular little
scarecrow. I shouldn't think the mother'll rear it."

They stepped out on to the line. The drizzle descended on Lady Merton's
bare head and grey travelling dress.

"You ought to have an umbrella," said the Canadian, looking at her in
some embarrassment. And he ran back to the car for one. Then, while she
carried the milk carefully in both hands, he held the umbrella over her,
and they passed through the groups of passengers who were strolling
disconsolately up and down the line in spite of the wet, or exchanging
lamentations with others from two more stranded trains, one drawn up
alongside, the other behind.

Many glances were levelled at the slight Englishwoman, with the
delicately pale face, and at the man escorting her. Elizabeth meanwhile
was putting questions. How long would they be detained? Her brother with
whom she was travelling was not at all strong. Unconsciously, perhaps,
her voice took a note of complaint.

"Well, we can't any of us cross--can we?--till they come to some bottom
in the sink-hole," said the Canadian, interrupting her a trifle bluntly.

Elizabeth laughed. "We may be here then till night."

"Possibly. But you'll be the first over."

"How? There are some trains in front."

"That doesn't matter. They'll move you up. They're very vexed it should
have happened to you."

Elizabeth felt a trifle uncomfortable. Was the dear young man tilting at
the idle rich--and the corrupt Old World? She stole a glance at him, but
perceived only that in his own tanned and sunburnt way he was a
remarkably handsome well-made fellow, built on a rather larger scale
than the Canadians she had so far seen. A farmer? His manners were not
countrified. But a farmer in Canada or the States may be of all
social grades.

By this time they had reached the emigrant car, the conductor of which
was standing on the steps. He was loth to allow Lady Merton to enter,
but Elizabeth persisted. Her companion led the way, pushing through a
smoking group of dark-faced men hangin