And Philippa's impending tears were thus warded off.

Thoughtful Neville had enclosed a note, ready addressed and stamped, for Kathie to post at once to Miss Clotilda if Wednesday was decided upon.

She was also to let him know at once, which she did.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

So on Wednesday morning a four-wheeler with some luggage on the top drew up at Miss Eccles' door, and Neville jumped out. Kathleen was ready, of course; she had been ready for half an hour at least. There was nothing more to do except to give Philippa a last hug for the twentieth time, and to tell her not to cry, and to be sure, quite sure, to write.

'And, Kathie, don't, _promise_ me you won't, give up looking for the will,' whispered Philippa at the very last moment. 'Oh, how I wish I were going with you! How I would hunt!'

'I won't forget, I promise you,' Kathie replied. 'But don't fancy there's any chance of it, Phil. There isn't, I'm afraid, and you'd only be disappointed. But I'll write to you, darling, I promise you.'

The first part of the journey was performed to the children's entire satisfaction, for they had the carriage to themselves.

'After all,' said Kathie, 'third-cla.s.s isn't so bad, is it, Neville?

And I'm sure papa and mamma will think it _awfully_ good of us to have saved the money.'

'I don't know that they will,' said Neville. 'They will think it sensible--as we're going to be poor it's best to get accustomed to it.

But besides that, if we hadn't come third, we couldn't have come at all.'

Kathleen sat silent for a minute or two.

'Do you really think we are going to be poor always, Neville?' she said.

'Do you think there's no chance of the will ever being found?'

Neville shook his head.

'I don't believe there's the least,' he said. 'I'm sure Aunt Clotilda has looked everywhere.'

Kathleen sighed.

'It does seem too bad,' she said. 'Things don't often happen like that--in that story-book sort of way. I don't see why it should have come to us.'

'I don't see why it should have come to poor papa and mamma--staying out there in India just to get money for us when they'd gladly be at home, or to poor Aunt Clotil'--

'Oh, bother Aunt Clotilda!' said Kathleen impatiently. 'You'll really make me dislike her, Neville, if you keep on pestering so about her. I'm much more sorry for ourselves than for her--she's an old maid, and I don't suppose _she_ was forced to travel third-cla.s.s when she was a little girl.'

'A minute or two ago you thought third-cla.s.s was very comfortable,' said Neville. 'You change about so, Kathie. I don't understand you.'

Kathleen did not always quite understand herself. She looked about eagerly as if in search of an excuse for her bad temper.

'I'm hot,' she said, 'and--yes--I'm almost sure I'm rather hungry. I didn't eat much breakfast, Neville, I was in such a fuss.'

Neville opened the little basket in which their provisions were packed.

Miss Eccles--or Miss Fraser rather--had contented herself with some rather thick sandwiches made of cold beef, and a few Albert biscuits.

But kind Mrs. Fanshaw had given Neville a little parcel of toast sandwiches--toast and egg--which are much nicer for children and don't get nearly so dry in hot weather as meat ones; and besides this, she had given him some slices of home-made plum-cake and a few grapes and a little bottle of lemonade, not too sweet--so there was really quite a nice little railway dinner. And when Neville had spread it all out, Kathleen's spirits got up again, and she did full justice to Mrs.

Fanshaw's good things.

After this refreshment they both got out their books and began to read, but before they had read very long Kathie's head gave a great b.u.mp, and half opening her eyes she discovered she had been asleep. So she shut up her book and propped her head against the corner as well as she could, and settled herself for a little nap, for by a glance at the opposite corner she had seen that this was what Neville had done.

They slept comfortably enough for an hour or more, and very likely, taking into account the sultry weather, they would have slept on still longer had they not been awakened by the train stopping and some one--or more than one--getting in.

'What a bore!' said Kathie to herself. 'Dear me, the carriage will be quite full,' and in they continued to come. Two women with big baskets, another with two babies, and then two oldish men, of a cla.s.s above the women apparently, for the latter were evidently simple peasants, returning from market very likely, and chattering to each other in Welsh.

The sound of their queer talk made Kathie a little forget her ill temper at being disturbed; she sat up and listened, and Neville, opposite to her, did the same. But after a while they grew tired of listening to what they could not understand a word of, and they took out their books and read for half an hour or so. At the end of that time the train stopped again, and to their great relief the three women, the two babies, and the two baskets all got, or were got out, and the brother and sister were left alone with the two elderly men. When the train went on again these two began talking to each other in English, though with a curious accent, and now and then some words of what they were saying fell on the children's ears, though without catching their attention.

Suddenly, however, Kathleen heard a name and then another which made her listen more closely, and looking across at Neville, she saw that he too was on the alert. The names were those of 'Miss Wynne,' and 'Ty-Gwyn.'

'Yes,' one of the old worthies was saying to the other, 'it is a strange story. She was--was Mrs. Wynne, a good old lady, though she had her ways, but she was not one to play a trick on n.o.body.'

'No, surely,' said the other. 'That was what I always heard. And she was careful and exact.'

'She had not her match for that. She never forgot a promise, she never but paid all she owed, to a day. No--no--there was no carelessness about her. Why, last Christmas as ever was she came down to see my wife, who was very bad with her rheumatiz just then; couldn't stir hand nor foot, and now she's hearty enough and the poor old lady gone! Well, she came down with a present she had made for her; she was wonderful handy with her fingers, and my wife and she was very old friends. "Here, Ellen,"

says she, "here's a pincushion I've made for you my own self. You'll keep it, Ellen, and show to your great-grandchildren maybe, as the work of an old woman of eighty-three. It may be the last Christmas I'll be here." And that was a true word, surely.'

'Dear, dear,' said the other old man. Then after a moment's silence he spoke again. 'You don't think now, as she could have had any reason for changing at the last? The Captain's a right sort of a young man by all accounts--he can't have done anything to displease the old lady?'

At this point Kathie and Neville looked at each other. Neville grew very red and Kathie's eyes flashed. Suddenly, before Kathie knew what he was going to do, Neville stood up and went a step or two towards the two old men, who were at the other end of the carriage. They stopped talking and looked at him.

'I--I think you should know,' he began, growing redder still, 'before you say any more of Captain Powys, that I am his son. And if anybody were to say anything against him'--

He had no time to finish his sentence. The older of the two farmers, for such they appeared to be, interrupted him eagerly.

'Say aught against him! Bless you, little master, if you'd waited a minute you'd have heard what I was a-going to say to my friend here. Not that he was a-going to say any wrong, but he's not from our part, and he doesn't know Master David. And so you're Master David's boy, to be sure, and missy there?' And he nodded his head towards Kathleen inquiringly.

'Yes, I'm his daughter,' said Kathie; 'you wouldn't expect to see us travelling third-cla.s.s, I daresay, but it's because of what you were speaking about, our papa's not getting the property, you know.'

The old man's face grew very sympathetic.

'To be sure,' he said, 'to be sure. And you and master here,' he went on, 'you'll be going to Ty-gwyn--to Miss Powys's? To be sure.'

'To Miss Clotilda Powys,' Kathleen corrected. '_I'm_ Miss Powys.'

'Oh, indeed,' he said, looking rather mystified. 'And miss--the lady from Ty-gwyn--she'll be meeting you at the station, at Frewern Bay, no doubt. It's a long ride from there to Ty-Gwyn.'

'Is it?' said Neville. 'I thought the village--Hafod--was quite near Frewern Bay.'

The farmer shook his head.

'It's a good sixteen mile,' he said, 'and it's going to be a wet evening. But if Miss--the lady from Ty-gwyn, meets you, it'll be all right. She'll have got a fly.'

A very slight misgiving came over Neville. He began to hope Aunt Clotilda _would_ meet them. It would have certainly been more satisfactory had there been time to have had another letter from her after their deciding on Wednesday.

'Are we near Frewern Bay now?' he asked the farmer.

'In half an hour we should be there,' said he. Then he went on to tell them that he had been away for a day or two about a horse he was going to buy, and that he was going to stay the night at Frewern Bay with his daughter, who was married to the princ.i.p.al grocer there, and the next morning he should be going home to Hafod.

'Oh, do you live there?' exclaimed the children, with fresh interest.