miss peppy undertakes a journey.

the scene is changed now to the railway station at wreckumoft, where there is the usual amount of bustle and noise. the engines are shrieking and snorting as if nothing on earth could relieve their feelings but bursting. bells are ringing; porters are hurrying to and fro with luggage on trucks, to the risk of passengers’ shins and toes; men, women, and children, young and old, high and low, rich and poor, are mixed in confusion on the platform, some insanely attempting to force their way into a train that is moving off, under the impression that it is their train, and they are too late “after all!” others are wildly searching for lost luggage. many are endeavouring to calm their own spirits, some are attempting to calm the spirits of others. timid old ladies, who cannot get reconciled to railways at all, are convinced that “something is going to happen,” and testy old gentlemen are stumping about in search of wives and daughters, wishing that railways had never been invented, while a good many self-possessed individuals of both sexes are regarding the scene with serene composure.

when miss peppy made her appearance she was evidently not among the latter class. she was accompanied by kenneth, and attended by mrs niven.

neither mistress nor maid had ever been in a railway station before. they belonged to that class of females who are not addicted to travelling, and who prefer stage-coaches of the olden times to railways. they entered the station, therefore, with some curiosity and much trepidation—for it chanced to be an excursion day, and several of the “trades” of athenbury were besieging the ticket-windows.

“it is very good of you to go with me, kennie,” said miss peppy, hugging her nephew’s arm.

“my dear aunt, it is a pleasure, i assure you,” replied kenneth; “i am quite anxious to make the acquaintance of colonel crusty and his pretty daughter.”

“o dear! what a shriek! is anything wrong, kennie?”

“nothing, dear aunt; it is only a train about to start.”

“what’s the matter with you, niven?” inquired miss peppy with some anxiety, on observing that the housekeeper’s face was ashy pale.

“nothink, ma’am; only i feels assured that everythink is a-goin’ to bu’st, ma’am.”

she looked round hastily, as if in search of some way of escape, but no such way presented itself.

“look-out for your legs, ma’am,” shouted a porter, as he tried to stop his truck of luggage.

mrs niven of course did not hear him, and if she had heard him, she would not have believed it possible that he referred to her legs, for she wore a very long dress, and was always scrupulously particular in the matter of concealing her ankles. fortunately kenneth observed her danger, and pulled her out of the way with unavoidable violence.

“it can’t ’old on much longer,” observed niven with a sigh, referring to an engine which stood directly opposite to her in tremulous and apparently tremendous anxiety to start.

the driver vented his impatience just then by causing the whistle to give three sharp yelps, which produced three agonising leaps in the bosoms of miss peppy and mrs niven.

“couldn’t it all be done with a little less noise,” said miss peppy to kenneth, “it seems to me so aw— oh! look! surely that old gentleman has gone mad!”

“not he,” said kenneth with a smile; “he has only lost his wife in the crowd, and thinks the train will start before he finds her; see, she is under the same impression, don’t you see her rushing wildly about looking for her husband, they’ll meet in a moment or two if they keep going in the same direction, unless that luggage-truck should interfere.”

“look-out, sir!” shouted the porter at that moment. the old gentleman started back, and all but knocked over his wife, who screamed, recognised him, and clung to his arm with thankful tenacity.

a bell rang.

the crowd swayed to and fro; agitated people became apparently insane; timid people collapsed; strong people pushed, and weak folk gave way. if any man should be sceptical in regard to the doctrine of the thorough depravity of the human heart, he can have his unbelief removed by going into and observing the conduct of an eager crowd!

“what a hinfamous state of things!” observed mrs niven.

“yell!—shriek!” went the engine whistle, drowning miss peppy’s reply.

“take your seats!” roared the guard.

the engine gave a sudden snort, as if to say, “you’d better, else i’m off without you.”

“now aunt,” said kenneth, “come along.”

in another moment miss peppy was seated in a carriage, with her head out of the window, talking earnestly and rapidly to mrs niven.

it seemed as if she had reserved all the household directions which she had to give to that last inopportune moment!

“now, take good care of emmie, niven, and don’t forget to get her—”

the remainder was drowned by “that irritating whistle.”

“get her what, ma’am?”

“get her shoes mended before sunday, and remember that her petticoat was torn when she—bless me! has that thing burst at last?”

“no, ma’am, not yet,” said niven.

“now then, keep back; show your tickets, please,” said the inspector, pushing niven aside.

“imperence!” muttered the offended housekeeper, again advancing to the window when the man had passed.

as the train was evidently about to start, miss peppy’s memory became suddenly very acute, and a rush of forgotten directions almost choked her as she leaned out of the window.

“oh! niven, i forgot—the—the—dear me, what is it? i know it so well when i’m not in a flurry. it’s awful to be subjected so constantly to—the child’s history of england! that’s it—on the top of my—my—which trunk can it be? i know, oh yes, the leather one. emmie is to read—well now, that is too bad—”

as miss peppy stopped and fumbled in her pocket inquiringly, mrs niven asked, in some concern, if it was her purse.

“no, it’s my thimble; ah! here it is, there’s a corner in that pocket where everything seems to—well,” (shriek from the whistle), “oh! and—and—the baker’s book—it must be—by the bye, that’s well remembered, you must get money from mr stuart—”

“what now, ma’am,” inquired mrs niven, as miss peppy again paused and grew pale.

“the key!”

“of the press?” inquired niven.

“yes—no; that is, it’s the key of the press, and not the key of my trunk. here, take it,” (she thrust the key into the housekeeper’s hand, just as the engine gave a violent snort.) “what shall i do? my trunk won’t open without, at least i suppose it won’t, and it’s a new lock! what shall—”

“make a parcel of the key, niven,” said kenneth, coming to the rescue, “and send it by the guard of next train.”

“and oh!” shrieked miss peppy, as the train began to move, “i forgot the—the—”

“yes, yes, quick, ma’am,” cried niven eagerly, as she followed.

“oh! can’t they stop the train for a moment? it’s the—it’s—dear me—the pie—pie!”

“what pie, ma’am?”

“there’s three of them—for my brother’s dinner—i forgot to tell cook—it’ll put him out so—there’s three of ’em. it’s not the—the—two but the—the—other one, the what-d’ye-call-it pie.” miss peppy fell back on her seat, and gave it up with a groan. suddenly she sprang up, and thrust out her head—“the deer pie,” she yelled.

“the dear pie!” echoed the astonished mrs niven interrogatively.

another moment and miss peppy vanished from the scene, leaving the housekeeper to return home in despair, from which condition she was relieved by the cook, who at once concluded that the “dear pie” must mean the venison pasty, and forthwith prepared the dish for dinner.