Rhoda looked at the clock in some alarm. She had not been conscious of the lapse of time. "I don't think Miss Rosie meant to stop anywhere, Wilmot.

But they ought to be home. I hope nothing has happened."

At that moment Tom entered the room. "It is getting very late," he said to Rhoda. "How long did Jones mean to take to put that shoe right? Not very long, surely."

"Miss Merivale thought they would be at home by six o'clock," Rhoda answered.

"And it is seven now," Tom said, glancing at the clock. "It will be dark in half an hour. They were coming by the high road all the way, didn't you say?"

"Yes; Miss Smythe did not want to go up the lane. But the high road is not very much longer, is it, Mr. Merivale?"

"About two miles longer. But it is a better road. They ought to be home by this time."

Rhoda was standing by the window, and he came to her side and looked out.

He carefully avoided glancing at her, yet he knew that her face was very proud and cold.

"I think I will go down the road to meet them," he said. His voice shook a little. It was very hard--it was almost harder than he could bear--to let her go on misunderstanding him. Yet how could he explain?

"I wish they would come home," Rhoda answered. "Do go and meet them, Mr.

Merivale. Miss Smythe wanted to drive, and I do not trust her driving."

"Bob doesn't want much driving," Tom answered. But as he spoke he suddenly remembered the traction engine crawling up the hill. For the first time he felt really alarmed. "I will go down the road," he said, moving quickly from the window. "Though I daresay I shall meet them almost at once."

Wilmot followed him into the hall. "Mr. Tom, where can they be?"

"Somewhere on the road between Bingley and our gates," he said lightly.

"Don't alarm Miss Sampson or my aunt, Wilmot. But send Ann round to the stables to tell Jack to get my horse ready. If I do not see any sign of them on the road, I will ride towards Bingley."

He went off; and Rhoda, after watching him down the drive, crept upstairs to listen at Miss Merivale's door. But as she crossed the landing the door opened, and Miss Merivale stepped out, a black lace shawl framing the whiteness of her face.

"Rhoda, where has Tom gone?" she asked. "How still the house is! Haven't Rose and Miss Smythe come back?"

"Not yet," answered Rhoda lightly. "Bob's shoe got loose, you know. They were delayed at the village."

"But it is nearly dark. Something must have happened. Let us go down to the gate, Rhoda. I am frightened."

Rhoda could not persuade her to let her go alone, and they went together down the drive. Tom had just ridden off; they could hear the sound of his horse's feet on the hilly road. But when that died away, a long period of silence ensued. They went out of the gates and down the hill towards the station, Miss Merivale clinging to Rhoda.

It was after what seemed hours to them both that they heard a horse trotting rapidly towards them. Miss Merivale leant against the low stone wall that divided the road on one side from the common.

"Rhoda, that is Tom. I could tell Black Beauty's trot anywhere. Go on to meet him, dear. I cannot go any farther."

Rhoda went quickly on. It was Tom; he sprang off his horse on catching sight of her.

"Miss Smythe has been badly hurt," he said. "She is at the Rectory. Rose is with her."

"Your sister is not hurt?"

"A bruise or two. They met that traction engine; Miss Smythe was driving, and tried to make Bob pa.s.s it. The result was that Bob bolted down the hill."

They were walking quickly up the hill as he spoke. Rhoda told him that Miss Merivale was waiting for them, and a couple of moments brought them to her side. She refused to accept at first Tom's emphatic a.s.surances that Rose had escaped with only a bruise or two, and begged him to take her to the Rectory. Tom would not hear of her going. "Rose did not want to leave Miss Smythe, or I would have brought her home, Aunt Lucy. She is perfectly well. Rose is a plucky little girl She wasn't half as frightened as you are."

It was not till they got back to the house and he had made Miss Merivale drink the cup of tea Wilmot brought her, that he allowed her to know how serious Pauline's injuries were.

"They fear concussion of the brain," he said. "I have promised Hartley to telegraph for her friends. Can you give me their address?"

Miss Merivale hesitated. "I am afraid she has no near relatives, poor girl. I never heard her speak of any."

"But she is continually calling for 'Granny,' Mrs. Hartley says. Her grandmother ought to be here, if she has one. How could we find out?"

Rhoda, who had been sitting silent till then, now looked up and spoke.

"Her grandparents live at Leyton, Miss Merivale. They have a shop next door to Aunt Mary's brother. Mr. Smith is a grocer."

Miss Merivale stared at her. "My dear, are you sure?"

"Quite sure," Rhoda answered. "I saw her photograph when I took little Hugh to his uncle's, and they talked a great deal about her. Polly, they call her. She writes to them constantly. They brought her up, and I expect she is really very fond of them."

"But--Rhoda, are you quite sure? Why has she never spoken of them? Do you think she was ashamed of the shop? It must have been that."

"She had no reason to be ashamed," Rhoda answered quietly. "They are dear, good people."

"Poor girl, poor girl!" was all Miss Merivale could say; but Tom, who had brought a telegraph form from the library, asked Rhoda to give him the address.

"I will send this off at once," he said, getting up. "She evidently wants to have her grandmother with her now. She calls continually for her."

CHAPTER XII. CONCLUSION.

When the twelve o'clock train stopped at the station next morning two pa.s.sengers got out--a little old lady dressed with Quaker-like neatness, and a tall, grizzled, sunburnt man with a breezy, open-air look about him.

Tom and the Rector were both waiting on the platform, and hurried up to them. There was good news.

"Your granddaughter is better, Mrs. Smith," the Rector said in his kind voice. "But she may not know you. You must not be alarmed at that. The doctor is much more hopeful this morning, and she calls continually for you. We trust it may soothe her to have you near her."

The tears were streaming fast over Mrs. Smith's wrinkled face. "Polly would never have no one but me to nurse her," she said. "She was always like that from a baby. I came off the first minute I could. Mr. Smith wasn't able to leave the shop, but Mr. Harding came with me. I've never travelled alone in my life, and I'd have lost my way sure enough without him. Mr. Harding's from Australia, sir," she added, looking at Tom, whom she had identified as Mr. Merivale. "And he'd be glad to see Miss Sampson if she's still with Miss Merivale supposing 'twas convenient."

"I am going back to Woodcote now," Tom said, looking at Mr. Harding. He had started violently at the first mention of his name by Mrs. Smith, but he spoke coolly enough. "Will you walk back with me? My aunt will be very glad to see you. Miss Sampson is now at the Rectory, but I am going to fetch her and my sister after lunch."

The Rector's trap was waiting outside, and Mrs. Smith was soon comfortably settled in it. She was too simple and homely to be shy, and it was plain both to the Rector and Tom that her distress at Pauline's accident was largely mingled with delight at the prospect of having her to nurse. She spoke with eagerness to the Rector as they drove off of the time when she could take Polly back with her to Leyton.

"She's a good sort," Mr. Harding said, as he and Tom turned to walk up the hill. "I hope her Polly will soon be better. She is a governess, isn't she? Price told me she didn't spend much time with the old folks."

Tom did not feel called upon to answer this. He was determined to find out at once how much Mr. Harding knew about Rhoda's father and mother. "My aunt and I were talking about you yesterday, Mr. Harding, but we had no idea that you were in England."

Mr. Harding turned his keen black eyes upon him. "No, I only landed last week."

"My aunt has some reason to believe that Miss Sampson is related to her,"