'I expect that is Mr. Leicester there, father.' Up went his head; out came two horned glasses on to his nose, and he had a look at me. I smiled.
'God bless my soul,' he said, 'of course, of course! My dear, I'm as blind as a bat.' And on that we all were together, and he had shaken my hand with his two; and with 'This is my daughter Rayne,' she and I had shaken hands. Then we all turned together and went on our way over the gravel to the other end of the station.
'You see,' he was saying, 'it was my fault that we weren't up here to meet the train.—Yes, my dear,' he proceeded, 'it was my fault, I acknowledge it.'
'But where's your luggage?' said the girl, staying.
Mr. Cholmeley was seized with a sudden and violent fit of coughing.
'There is my box,' I said, turning and looking towards it; and, at that moment seeing a porter come out of a small room we had just passed, called to him. I turned back to them:
'Shall I tell him to … How? Are there cabs … or …'
'Well,' said Rayne, with the light of laughter in her eyes, 'there's the pony carriage outside, but … I'm afraid your box will be—rather too much for it!'
I laughed.
'Eh?' said Mr. Cholmeley, 'What? Eh? The box, my dear? you said it was too big?' He turned also: adjusted the two horned glasses, and took a look at it. The porter was waiting by us.
'Well,' I said, turning and speaking to him, 'will you manage to bring it up?'
'Yes, sir. I'll see it's brought up. Where to, sir?'
I paused: looked at Rayne: again laughed: and said:
'I don't know!—You see, sir,' I went on to Mr. Cholmeley, 'I forgot the address of the house I was going to, and I hadn't either your letter or Colonel James's in my pocket to refresh my memory with.'
'The Myrtles,' said Rayne to the porter: 'Well,' she added to me (he had gone with a queer comical look and a 'Yes, miss'), 'it was lucky we came to meet you then!'
