“Are they for me?” she said, gratefully indeed, but with a placid gratitude which was not perhaps what the donor wanted. “Oh, thank you. And this too? What is it?”
“‘Their Wedding Journey,’” said Jack, with a shy twinkle in his eyes.
“Is it pretty?” she answered dubiously. “It sounds silly; but you are supposed to be a judge. I think I should like ‘A Chance Acquaintance’ better, though.”
Of course the little book was changed, and Jack winced. But he had not time to think much about it, for he had to bustle away through the rising babel to secure seats for them in an empty compartment of the Oxford train, and see their luggage labelled and put in. This done, he hurried back, and pointed out to them the places he had taken. “Oh, dear, they are in a through carriage,” Kate said, stopping short and eyeing the board over the door.
“Yes,” he answered. “I thought that that was what you wanted.”
“No, I would rather go in another carriage, and change. We shall get to Claversham soon enough without travelling with Claversham people.”
“Indeed we shall,” Daintry chimed in. “Let us go and find seats, and Jack will bring the things after us.”
He assented meekly—very meekly for sharp Jack Smith—and presently came along with his arms full of parcels, to find them ensconced in the nearer seats of a compartment, which contained also one gentleman who was already deep in the “Times.” Jack, standing at the open door, could not see his face, for it was hidden by the newspaper, but he could see that his legs wore a youthful and reckless air; and he raised his eyebrows interrogatively. “Pooh!” whispered Daintry in answer. “How stupid you are! It is all right. I can see he is a clergyman by his boots!”
Jack smiled at this assurance, and, putting in the things he was holding, shut the door and stood outside, looking first at the platform about him, on which all was flurry and confusion, and then at the interior of the carriage, which seemed in comparison peaceful and homelike. “I think I will come with you to Westbourne Park,” he said suddenly.
“Nonsense, Jack!” Kate replied, with crushing decision. “We shall be there in five minutes, and you will have all the trouble of returning for nothing.”
He acquiesced meekly—poor Jack! “Well,” he said, with a new effort at cheerfulness, “you will soon be at home, girls. Remember me to the governor. I am afraid you will be rather dull at first. You will have one scrap of excitement, however.”