swer, and soon the train pulled up at the platform. A short, thick-set man, with iron-gray whiskers, and bright sparkling eyes behind gold-rimmed eye-glasses, greeted the young men as they stepped from the train.
"Ah, Neddy, my boy; glad to see you. And, Mr. Hart, how d' ye do? Heard my daughter speak of you. We've got the horses here,—what do you say for a drive? Mary is over there waiting."
He nodded his head in the direction of the street, where an un-English-looking coachman in a derby hat was driving a pair of healthy, long-tailed horses leisurely up and down. In the back seat sat Miss Bliss. She waved her hand, and the carriage was drawn up close to the snorting engine that the horses regarded in a very friendly fashion. The coachman, who answered familiarly to the name of "Tom," was left in charge of the luggage.
Ned took the front seat beside his father, and Hart sat down beside Miss Bliss. Her very first words caused him a mingled feeling of relief and disappointment.
"I had hoped that Madge Hollingsworth was going to be with us," she said, extending a
