quickened as he heard a clear voice, with an adorable suggestion of brogue behind it, inquire of the station-master:
"Will you tell me, sor, how I 'll be gettin' to Mr. Jerome B. Carter's?"
"Here's one of the Carter rigs now," said the man.
The girl turned quickly and faced Peter, and all his confused senses told him that she was pretty—prettier than Annette—pretty beyond all precedent. Her eyes were blue, and her hair was black and her colour was the colour that comes from a childhood spent out of doors in County Cork.
He hastily scrambled out of his seat and touched his hat. "Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am, are ye the new maid? Mrs. Carter sent me to fetch ye out. If ye 'll gi' me yer check, ma'am, I 'll get yer trunk."
The girl gave up her check silently, quite abashed by this very dressy young groom. She had served during the two years of her
