THE EDITOR'S STORY. 151 



brown leaves) that I spent an evening with Mrs. 

 Brady ; and, on the arrival of the post, she told 

 me her daughter was returning the next day. 

 " I have a bad cold, and perhaps you would 

 meet Margaret at the post-office for me," she 

 said. Of course I assented, and accordingly found 

 myself in due time waiting outside the inn at 

 which the ramshackle ' Lightning ' was ex- 

 pected. I was a little early, and spent the spare 

 minutes smoking and speculating with some 

 interest on the kind of girl she might be with 

 whom I was not to fall in love on any account. 

 In a quarter of an hour I heard the old- 

 fashioned guard's horn, and a minute afterwards 

 I Was opening the door for a young lady 

 whose face and head were so enveloped in a 

 warm cloak that I could not distinguish her 

 features. I simply introduced myself by saying, 

 " Miss Brady r" and, receiving a nod in reply, 

 I handed my charge out, and then got her 

 boxes off the roof. When this was done I 

 turned round, and saw standing next to me 

 my fair companion of the Holyhead steamboat. 

 She was laughing heartily, and putting out her 

 hand said. 



