and a roll of rugs into the carriage with me. Ermyntrude followed close behind, heavily laden, but very cool, very determined to get there somehow. When Ermyntrude's countenance assumes that grim, determined look, I get chilled. I always think she looks as if she were holding the most frightful flow of violent language but lightly in reserve, and as if the smallest provocation would unloose it. It's a most serviceable look at times to go about with, as it kind of clears the way in front. I've seen people just glance at Ermyntrude and shelve off straight away; I've even heard them meekly apologetic when they haven't done anything at all. Ermyntrude is quite invaluable on a railway platform. Even Marjory had gumption enough to see that, and clung to her like a shadow. Lady Manifold trudged along behind with her skirts held high, practically regardless of the rain overhead or the slush underfoot. I suppose a moment like that when she is caught in the rain in company with people better dressed than herself is the only time when the shabbily-dressed woman feels a passing glow of triumph. But it isn't worth while dressing with an eye to that shower of rain. I prefer the perpetual glow with the moments of depression of the well-dressed woman.
Marjory was on the verge of tears by the time we got on the boat. It was just a bit squashy getting on. Marjory wasn't carrying anything. She had quite enough to do to take care of herself. I forged ahead with my bundle of rugs in front, and got on the boat long before she did. Marjory is
