the honeysuckle full out along the paling of the platform over the
waiting-room; wonderful, this year--and there was she, standing alone on
the platform. No, it was not Cicely! He got out with a blank sensation,
as if those memories had played him false. It was a girl, indeed, but
she only looked about sixteen, and wore a sunbonnet that hid her hair
and half her face. She had on a blue frock, and some honeysuckle in her
waist-belt. She seemed to be smiling at him, and expecting him to smile
at her; and so he did smile. She came up to him then, and said:

"I'm Sylvia."

He answered: "Oh! thanks awfully--it was awfully good of you to come and
meet me."

"Cicely's so busy. It's only the T-cart. Have you got much luggage?"

She took up his hold-all, and he took it from her; she took his bag,
and he took it from her; then they went out to the T-cart. A small groom
stood there, holding a silver-roan cob with a black mane and black swish
tail.

She said: "D'you mind if I drive, because I'm learning."

And he answered: "Oh, no! rather not."

She got up; he noticed that her eyes looked quite excited. Then his
portmanteau came out and was deposited with the other things behind; and
he got up beside her.

She said: "Let go, Billy."