the luggage which was up there, when he saw Mona waiting for
him.

"Please, here's my fare. I'm sorry I forgot it, and how am I to get my
box up to my house?"

"Get your box up? Why the same way as you'll get yourself up. Hop inside
again, and I'll drive 'ee both up in a minute. I promised your mother I
would. You hold on to your money now, it'll be time enough to settle up
when I've done my job," and the old man chuckled amiably at his little
joke.

But Mona did not want to get back into the close, stuffy van again, and
sit there in solitary state, with everyone who passed by staring at her.
So, as soon as John Darbie was safely on the top and busy amongst the
boxes there, she walked quietly out of the yard and into the street.

How familiar it all was, and how unchanged! After Milbrook--the little
ugly new town, scarcely worthy the name of town--and the hamlet where her
granny lived, the street and houses looked small and old-fashioned, but
they looked homelike and strong. The Milbrook houses, with their walls
half a brick thick, and their fronts all bow-windows, would not have
lasted any time in little stormy, wind-swept Seacombe. Experience had
taught Seacombe folk that their walls must be nearly as solid as the
cliffs on which many of them were built, and the windows must be small and
set deep in the walls; otherwise they were as likely as not to be blown in
altogether when the winter storms raged; that roofs must come well down to
meet the little windows, like heavy brows protecting the eyes beneath,
which under their shelter, could gaze out defiantly at sea and storm.

To Mona, seeing them again after many months' absence, the houses looked
rough and poor, and plain; yet she loved them, and, as she walked up the
steep, narrow street, she glanced about her with eager, glowing eyes.
For the time her loneliness and nervousness were forgotten. Here and
there someone recognised her, but at that hour there were never many
people about.

"Why, Mona Carne! is it really you! Well, your mother and father'll be
glad to have you home again." Mona beamed gratefully on the speaker.

"Is it really Mona," cried another. "Why, now, you've grown! I didn't
know you till Mrs. Row said your name!"

Mona began to feel less forlorn and ill-used, and she was more glad than
ever that she had on her best clothes, and had put her hair up in squibs
the night before.

Outside one of the few shops Seacombe possessed, she