Maria from time to time glanced at Annie, and, although she had always liked her, a feeling of repulsion came over her.  She shrank a little when Annie passed the muffins to her.  Harry gave one keen, scrutinizing glance at the girl’s face, but he said nothing.  After breakfast he went up-stairs to bid Ida, who had a way of rising late, good-bye, and he whispered to her, “Annie was out all last night.”

“Oh, well,” replied Ida, sleepily, with a little impatience, “it does not happen very often.  What are we going to do about it?”

“Hannah is kicking,” said Harry, “and—­”

“I can’t help it if she is,” said Ida.  “Annie does her work well, and it is so difficult to get a maid nowadays; and I cannot set up as a moral censor, I really cannot, Harry.”

“I hate the example, that is all,” said Harry.  “There Hannah said, right before Maria, that Annie had been out.”

“It won’t hurt Maria any,” Ida replied, with a slight frown.  “Maria wouldn’t know what she meant.  She is not only innocent, but ignorant.  I can’t turn off Annie, unless I see another maid as good in prospect.  Good-bye, dear.”

Harry and Maria walked to the station together.  Their trains reached Edgham about the same time, although going in opposite directions.  It was a frosty morning.  There had been a slight frost the night before.  A light powder of glistening white lay over everything.  The roofs were beginning to smoke as it melted.  Maria inhaled the clear air, and her courage revived a little—­still, not much.  Nobody knew how she dreaded the day, the meeting Wollaston.  She could not yet bring herself to call him her husband.  It seemed at once horrifying and absurd.  The frosty air brought a slight color to the girl’s cheeks, but she still looked wretched.  Harry, who himself looked more than usually worn and old, kept glancing at her, as they hastened along.

“See here, darling,” he said, “hadn’t you better not go to school to-day?  I will write a note of explanation myself to the principal, at the office, and mail it in New York.  Hadn’t you better turn around and go home and rest to-day?”

“Oh no,” replied Maria.  “I would much rather go, papa.”

“You look as if you could hardly stand up, much less go to school.”

“I am all right,” said Maria; but as she spoke she realized that her knees fairly bent under her, and her heart beat loudly in her ears, for they had come in sight of the station.

“You are sure?” Harry said, anxiously.

“Yes, I am all right.  I want to go to school.”

“Well, look out that you eat a good luncheon,” said Harry, as he kissed her good-bye.

Maria had to go to the other side to take her Wardway train.  She left her father and went under the bridge and mounted the stairs.  When she gained the platform, the first person whom she saw, with a grasp of vision which seemed to reach her very heart, although she apparently did not see him at all, was Wollaston Lee.  He also saw her, and his boyish face paled.  There were quite a number waiting for the train, which was late.  Maud Page was among them.  Maria at once went close to her.  Maud asked about her little sister.  She had heard that she was found, although it was almost inconceivable how the news had spread at such an early hour.