A Pair of Schoolgirls: A Story of School Days

hor

e road to the station. Panting and out of breath, she rushed up the incline to the little gate. The train had come in; she could see t

" said the colle

ing to rush past; but the man

must see all contrac

that when once they had seen her season ticket on the first day of the term, they never asked to look at it again, but simply let her pass unchallenged. As she was not required to produce it

ord and Coleminster. You'll find it's quite right. Plea

e man. "If you haven't your contract you must book an

amped with

d there isn't time either. Let m

an shut the gat

in's in motion. You'll have to wait till the eight

ock! It was impossible. Why, Aunt Barbara would think she was lost or stolen! She was late enough as it was, and other two hours would be dreadful. Then, again, there was the question of her ticket. The official evidently would not accept her word for the contract if she could not produce the actual piece of pasteboard, and she had no money to book with. Should she run back to Lin

me than do that," s

n. To be sure, it was growing very dusk, but she was not in the least afraid. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she thought. "If I met a tramp a

lage of Latchworth, where lights were already beginning to appear in cottage windows, and labourers were returning home from work. As she passed the last little stone-roofed dwelling she looked back almo

Holly Cottage when she was left to play alone in the garden, and that the stories were probably made up for the occasion-Dorothy at fourteen did not mean to be frightened, as if she were seven-but, all the same, the old creepy horror which she used to feel came back and haunted her. The road was

ight, she would have mocked at herself for having any fears at all, but now she found her heart was beating and throbbing in the most absurd and unc

van that was passing slowly in the direction of Latchworth; the outside was hung with baskets, and there was a little black chimney that poured out a cloud of smoke. Two thin, tired horses paced wearily along, urged by an occasional prod with a stick from a

believe they'd have stolen anything they could lay hands on if they'd realized I was alone. I expect

nt. Yet what could she do? She certainly did not want to turn back either to the station or to Lindenlea. Time was passing rapidly, and she must push forward if she did not wish to be caught in the dark. Then she remembered that Martha had once spoken of a short cut between Hurford and Latchworth. Martha walked over occasionally on Sunday afternoons to see

short cut. I don't suppose I can go wrong if I follow the path th

ring out of the bushes, tweeting a warning to other feathered friends; and something small-either a rat or a rabbit-scuttled away into the grass and dried fern in a great panic at the sight of her. The sun had set some time ago, and the last tinge of red had faded from the sky. The grey, chilly dusk was changing from a neutral tint to black. A landscape on an evening at the beginning of November is never very cheerful, and Dorothy fel

ow fearfully overcast it is, too! I believe there'll be rain in a few minutes. Here's the

She could just see to stumble along, and had the greatest difficulty to trace her way. It was wet under foot; the ground was marshy in places, and strewn with dead leaves. After a little while she came to a place where the path seeme

tones put down on it. Was she at last coming to a stile? What was that dark patch in front of her? She stopped short suddenly, drawing back just in time t

ost crying, she began to retrace her steps, and hurried faster and faster through the gathering darkness. She was back at last at the spot where she had made the mistake, and this time she turned to the right. The trees seemed to be even nearer together than

CREET

the convenient pilgrim's cell or hermit's cave that generally turns up in story-books to shelter the adventurer. To add to her misery, the rain that had been threatening for some time came on, and descended in a torrent. She put up her umbrella and sheltered herself as well as s

y screamed aloud, for thunder held terrors for her; yet even in the midst of her fright there was a grain of comfort-the bright flash had lit up the wood like an electric lamp, and had shown h

his juncture she saw a small, rather flickering light moving through the gloom a little distance off. It must be a lantern, she thought; and whether the bearer were poacher, gipsy, or thief, she would summon him to help her out of her difficulty. She gave a lusty shriek, and went on calling at the top of her voice. The lantern stopped still for a moment, then, to her intense joy, began to move

What are you doing

was sure you were a tramp, or a poacher, or

ng back from visiting a patient," he laughed. "You haven't told me what

my way," confessed Dorothy. "I thought I

the stars myself once or twice, but not in November. That was a loud peal

scorted Dorothy to the door of Holly Cottage

omething, you young puss!" he said. "Take my advice, and stick to the 4.30

e return to do anything except welcome and cosset the prodigal; bu

e horrid walk, and getting lost, and the darkness, and spoiling one's clothes I mind, it's-well-oh, Dorothy Greenfield, you're a nasty, t