terminus. The Curate warned the Old Lady that the tickets would be
collected there.

[Illustration]

"Thank you, Sir," she said, "for telling me. Then I must be getting
my ticket ready. I've got it quite safely. Such a lot of money it did
seem to pay for a ride to London! But TOM _would_ have me come. He
never forgets his old Mother." She undid her reticule and took out her
purse; she undid the purse and took out a folded paper; she unfolded
the paper and took out the ticket. Then she put the paper back in
the purse, and the purse back in the reticule. She held the ticket
gingerly between two fingers of her cotton-gloved hand, as if it were
a delicate fruit, and she were afraid of rubbing the bloom off it.

"What a refreshing contrast to our city ways!" thought the
Stockbroker.

"_How_ characteristic!" thought the Curate.

"My word! there's one of my hair-pins coming out," said the Old Lady,
suddenly. The hand which held the ticket flew to the back of her head,
to put the hair-pin right.

And then, all at once, the look of animation died out of the Old
Lady's face. She seemed utterly aghast and horror-stricken. She gasped
out an unintelligible interjection.

"What's the matter, Ma'am?" asked the Stockbroker.