"Who can have started such a story?" she demanded.
"Who started it?" he repeated and then was immersed in thought again; only now there was a grim look on his face.
"Well anyhow," he cried, in a minute or two, "we're out of that wood! Aren't we, Louisa?"
"Yes, Uncle Ned," she smiled back.
He stirred impulsively in his seat and then seemed to check himself, and for the rest of the journey he appeared to be divided between content with the present hour and an impulse to improve upon it. And then before he had realised where they were, they had stopped at a station, and she was exclaiming:
"Oh, I must get out here! I've left my bike in the station!"
"Look here," said he, with his hand on the door handle, "before you go you've got to swear that you'll come straight to Stanesland if there's another particle of trouble. Swear?"
"But what about Miss Cromarty?" she smiled.
"Miss Cromarty will say precisely the same as I do," he said with a curiously significant emphasis. "So now, I don't open this door till you promise!"
"I promise!" said she, and then she was standing on the platform waving a farewell.
"I half wish I'd risked it!" he said to himself with a sigh as the train moved on, and then he ruminated with an expression on his face that seemed to suggest a risk merely deferred.
