g; and the more she hurt herself clambering over the rough
roads, the more heroic and brave she thought herself. And when, at last,
she stepped out on the high road, and realised that she had seven miles to
walk to her grandmother's house, she thought herself bravest of all,
a perfect heroine, in fact.

Already she was feeling hungry, for breakfast had been early, and Patty
and Philippa had only been able to spare her a slice of bread and butter
and a biscuit.

On she trudged, and on, and on. A distant clock struck three, and just at
the same moment she passed a sign-post with 'Milbrook, 6 miles,' painted
on one arm of it, and 'Seacombe, 1 mile,' on another.

"Then she had six long tiresome miles to walk before she could get a
meal!" she thought. "If she did not get on faster than she was doing,
it would be dark night before she reached Hillside Cottage, and granny
would be gone to bed. She always went to bed as soon as daylight began to
go. How frightened she would be at being called up to let Mona in!"

The thought quickened her steps a little, and she covered the next mile in
good time. She ran down the hills, and trotted briskly along the level.
She got on faster in that way, but she very soon felt too tired to
continue. Her legs ached so badly she had no heart left for running.
Now and again she leaned back against the hedge for a little rest, and oh,
how she did wish that it was the blackberry season! She was starving, or
felt as though she was.

By and by, when she had quite despaired of ever reaching granny's that
night, she caught sight of a cart lumbering along in the distance, and a
man sitting up in it driving. It was the first sight of a human being
that she had seen since she started, and she welcomed it gladly.
"Perhaps it's going my way, and will give me a lift."

The thought so cheered her that she went back a little way to meet the
cart. When she drew nearer she saw that it was a market cart, and that
the driver was a kindly-looking elderly man. Every now and again he
talked encouragingly to his horse to quicken its pace. Between whiles he
sang snatches of a hymn in a loud, rolling bass.

As soon as he saw that Mona was waiting to speak to him, he stopped his
singing and drew up the horse.

"Good evening, missie," he said civilly. "Are you wanting a lift?"

"Oh, please--I wondered if you would--I am so tired I can hardly walk."

"Um! Where were you thinking of going?"

"To Hil