She stopped, considering.  She was not sure which was the way to the nearest railway-station some eight miles distant.  She was prepared to walk it, but feared to take the wrong road, for she instinctively felt that if she had to endure any unexpected delay, some one from Briar Farm would be sent to trace her and find out where she went.  While she thus hesitated, she heard the heavy rumbling of slow cart-wheels, and waited to see what sort of vehicle might be approaching.  It was a large waggon drawn by two ponderous horses and driven by a man who, dimly perceived by the light of the lantern fastened in front of him, appeared to be asleep.  Innocent hailed him—­and after one or two efforts succeeded at last in rousing his attention.

“Which is the way to the railway-station?” she asked.

The man blinked drowsily at her.

“Railway-station, is it?  I be a-goin’ there now to fetch a load o’ nitrates.  Are ye wantin’ to git?”

“Wantin’ to git” was a country phrase to which Innocent was well accustomed.  She answered, gently—­

“Yes.  I should be so glad if you’d give me a lift—­I’ll pay you for it.  I have to catch the first train to London.”

“Lunnon?  Quiet, ye rascals!”—­this to the sturdy horses who were dragging away at their shafts in stolid determination to move on—­ “Lunnon’s a good way off!  Ever bin there?”

“No.”

“Nor I, nayther.  Seekin’ service?”

“Yes.”

“Wal, ye can ride along wi’ me, if so be ye likes it—­we be goin’ main slow, but we’ll be there before first engine.  Climb up!—­ that’s right!  ’Ere’s a corner beside me—­ye could sit in the waggon if ye liked, but it’s ’ard as nails.  ’Ere’s a bit of ’oss-cloth for a cushion.”

The girl sprang up as he bade her and was soon seated.

“Ye’re a light ‘un an’ a little ‘un, an’ a young ’un,” he said, with a chuckle—­“an’ what ye’re doin’ all alone i’ the wake o’ the marnin’ is more than yer own mother knows, I bet!”

“I have no mother,” she said.

“Eh, eh!  That’s bad—­that’s bad!  Yet for all that there’s bad mothers wot’s worse than none.  Git on wi’ ye!”—­this in a stentorian voice to the horses, accompanied by a sounding crack of the whip.  “Git on!”

The big strong creatures tugged at the shafts and obeyed, their hoofs making a noisy clatter in the silence of the dawn.  The daylight was beginning to declare itself more openly, and away to the east, just above a line of dark trees, the sky showed pale suggestions of amber and of rose.  Innocent sat very silent; she was almost afraid of the coming light lest by chance the man beside her should ever have seen her before and recognise her.  His sleep having been broken, he was disposed to be garrulous.

“Ever bin by train afore?” he asked.

“No.”