"Beckworth."

"Really? In-deed! That's curious now.
I don't know your face. You're a stranger
in these parts, eh?"

"Yes, I am," said Maud, shortly: she
did not fancy this interrogatory, and looked
out of window again.

"I know most of the faces about
Beckworth." A pause; then, seeing that this
drew forth no reply, he added, with a
captivating smile, "And yours is too
'andsome a one to be forgot."

She turned round, and looked at him
steadily, without a word. Nothing daunted,
he continued, with a laugh:

"No offence, I 'ope. It ain't the first
time you've been told so, I'm sure. Going
out to service, eh?"

This time Maud only nodded her head—
and it was half out of window. How she
wished her short journey at an end! The
man's familiarity was very offensive, and
she made up her mind that she would
answer no more of his questions.

"Who are you going to? Squire Barnby,
or the Rectory? Both close to us—can
tell you all about 'em." Still no reply.

A full minute's pause. Then the same
mellifluous accents: "No cause to cut up
rusty, my dear, because I called you
'andsome. We shall be neighbours, and may
as well make friends—eh? Allow me to
offer you a orange?"

He plunged his hand into one of the
hampers and produced the fruit, which he
held out with the seductive air of a Satan
tempting Eve. She thanked him, dryly,
and shook her head, without looking at him.

"In the kitchen, or the nursery, is it?"
he pursued. "I 'ope it ain't at the Rectory,
that's all—they're regularly starved there,
and such a fuss about broken victuals!
every crust and scrap used up, they tell
me. Such mean ways wouldn't suit me,
nor you, neither, I should say? You look
as if you'd bin used to good food, and
plenty of it: ha, ha!"

Finding, at last, that he could get neither
a word nor a smile from his fair travelling-
companion, he made up his mind that she
was, as he afterwards expressed it, "half-
savage, and no ways used to good society;
a fine gal, sir, very fine, but not genteel;
scowls at a compliment, and snaps off your
nose if you ask her a civil question." And
so he left her in peace.

And now the porters called out
"Beckworth:" the man and his hampers bustled
out; there were greetings of a semi-
respectful, semi-familiar kind, offered to him
by more than one person on the platform;
the guard blew his whistle, the train moved
off, and Maud found herself standing alone,
unheeded, with her bag beside her, both
porters being in attendance upon the
hampers and their owner. She walked
up to a little man with his hands in his
pockets, whom she had seen talking with
her fellow-traveller a moment before, and
whom she rightly guessed was the station-
master:

"In which direction is Beckworth House?
Can I get any one to carry my bag?"

"Is it the big house you want? Mrs.
Cartaret's? Why there's Mr. Dapper just
going up in the dog-cart."

"Who is Mr. Dapper? Not that
man——"

"There, with the hampers, at the gate.
He's Mrs. Cartaret's butler. Hello! Jem,
you tell Mr. Dapper that this here young
woman and her bag is going up to the
house."

It was a disagreeable little coincidence:
Maud would have given a great deal not
to perform that mile in the dog-cart alongside
a man against whom she felt such a
repulsion; but there was no help for it.
What excuse could she give for avoiding
so obvious a mode of transit? And would
it not be the height of folly to enter upon
her new career by what might reasonably
be said to be "giving herself airs?" Mr.
Dapper and his hampers were already in
the cart when she reached the gate. He
looked at her with an amused smile.

"So we're not to part so soon after all?
Ha! ha! You're the new maid, I s'pose,
that Mrs. C. has been advertising for?
Stupid of me not to have guessed it, only
I didn't know the right article 'ad been
found yet. There, settle yourself
comfortable—wrap my plaid round you. Now,
Tom, all right, let go her head; the bag's
in, ain't it? Off we go; good-bye, Mr.
Tuckett. Well, to be sure! only to think
of our travelling together, and you never
telling me you was coming to our 'ouse!
'ere's the lodge-gate—easy, mare, easy!
Don't bolt now, you'll get back to your
stable fast enough. There's the Rectory,
out there in the trees, d'ye see? That's
where I made sure you was going; but
I'm glad it's us that is to have the good
fortune——" He concluded his sentence with
an insinuating smile, and an expressive
flourish of his whip, which excited the mare
more than he intended. But it was clear that
Mr. Dapper was accustomed to handle the
ribbons, and he rose just one degree above
the freezing point of Maud's esteem, as she
saw how skilfully he managed the