Glad to be borne away from the city and out through fresh green fields and past pretty church-spired villages, alone in the compartment, Cassandra comforted herself with her baby, playing with him until he dropped to sleep, when she made a bed for him on the car seat with rugs, and, taking out her purse, began to count her remaining resources. Her bill at the hotel had appalled her. So much to pay to stay only a night! What would David say? But he had told her to use the money as she liked, and now she was here, there was nothing else to do.
Laboriously she computed the amount in English money, and, reckoned thus, her dollars and cents seemed to shrink and vanish. Still, more than half remained of what she had brought with her, and she viewed the matter calmly.
The shadows fell long over the smooth greensward as she arrived in the village of Queensderry and was driven to a small inn, the only house of entertainment in the place. She was given a pleasant room overlooking fields and orchards and bright gardens, and the sight rested her eyes, and still further calmed her troubled heart. She would rest to-night, and to-morrow all would be well.
Never had food tasted better to her than the supper served in her pretty room,—toast in a silver rack, and fresh butter, such as David loved, and curds and whey, and gingerbread, and a small jar of marmalade. She ate, seated in the window, looking