y were obliged to sit, the fatigue of a
long day's walking without rest or refreshment, the dreariness of the
road and chill aspect of the weather, combined to make this journey as
miserable a one as it well could be. Yet it was only the very beginning
of the troubles Elsie had brought upon herself and Duncan.

She was not feeling in the best spirits just now, but she buoyed herself
up by thinking of the future, and telling herself that every one who
ever ran away from home had some adventures that seemed trying at the
time, though they were quite interesting to hear of afterwards, and she
tried to picture herself being put in a book as a heroine. And she was
not in the least daunted, only inclined to feel very cross and snappish.

Duncan sat huddled up in a corner, with a face that might have served
for a Dutch doll, it was so blank and wooden. He was not the sort of boy
to cry, but down in his heart there was a very forlorn feeling, which he
would not like Elsie to have known anything about.

Presently a drop of rain spattered on to Elsie's forehead--another, and
another--and then, down it came in torrents. To Elsie's despair, the
horse slackened his already slow pace, and finally stood still,
trembling and snorting. They were on an open road, with not even a tree
near by for shelter.

"Why don't he go on?" Elsie cried out.

"The rain blinds her. She can't see," the man replied.

"Then why don't you lead her?" Elsie cried, in her peremptory fashion.

Elsie was more inclined than ever to think that the man must be a little
daft. He got down, and did as she had told him. It seemed as if he had
not thought of it before. He was so dazed and muddle-headed, that he
would have sat apathetically on his seat, waiting for the horse to go
on, although he could certainly get no wetter than he was by walking.

The rain had added the last drop to their cup of discomfort. The
children were wet through in a very short time, and they were far better
clad than the man.

They went along in dismal procession, all reeking wet. It was now
tolerably dark, and not a soul passed them. There was clearly nothing
for it but to persuade the man to take them in at his cottage. Elsie
began now to wonder what sort of a place so miserable-looking a creature
lived in.

During this latter part of their journey, Duncan, too, had been
wondering where they would sleep; but it was no good asking, he said to
himself, for if Elsie didn't know she