ocket, and made a descent on Miss
Lutwyche for her packing, which she criticized severely. But packing,
unlike controversy, always ends; and in less than half an hour, both
were in their places behind Tom Kettering and the grey mare, who had
accepted the prospect of another fifteen miles without emotion; and Mrs.
Masham and Lupin were watching them off, and thinking how nice it would
be when they could get to bed.

"Now you think the mare can do it, Tom Kettering?"

"Twice and again, my lady, and a little over. And never be any the worse
to-morrow!" Thus Tom Kettering, with immovable confidence. The mare as
good as endorsed his words, swinging her head round to see, and striking
the crust of the earth a heavy blow with her off hind-hoof.

"And we shall have time for you to get down at your Aunt Solmes's to
leave my letter?"

"I count upon it, my lady, quite easy. We'll be at the Thorpe by three,
all told, without stepping out." And then the mare is on the road again,
doing her forty-first mile, quite happily.

They stopped at the bridle-path to the Ranger's Cottage, and Tom walked
across with the letter--an unearthly hour for a visit!--and came back
within ten minutes. All right! Her ladyship's wishes should be attended
to! Then on through the starlight night, with the cold crisp air growing
colder and crisper towards morning. Then the railway-station where
Feudal tradition could still stop a train by signal, but only one or two
in the day ever stopped of their own accord, in the fifties. _Now_, as
you know, every train stops, and Spiers and Pond are there, and you can
lunch and have Bovril and Oxo. Then, the shoddy-mills were undreamed of,
where your old clothes are carefully sterilised before they are turned
into new wool; and the small-arms factory, where Cain buys an outfit
cheap; and the colour-works, that makes aniline dyes that last, if you
settle monthly, until you pay for them. Nothing was there then, and the
train that stopped by signal came through a smokeless night, with red
eyes and green that gazed up or down the line to please the Company; and
started surlily, in protest at the stoppage, but picked its spirits
slowly up, and got quite exhilarated before it was out of hearing,
perhaps because it was carrying Gwen to London.

The dejection of its first start might have persevered and made its
full-fledged rapidity joyless, had it known the errand of its beautiful
first-class passenger. For the telegra