Kitty slipped her hand in Marjorie's as they went along.

She had said little while the story was being told, but as Marjorie well knew, silence with Kitty was always indicative of deep emotion.
The inn, though modern, was copied after a quaint old plan, and the low-ceiled, raftered dining-room greatly pleased the children.

There were seats along the wall--something like church pews,--with long tables in front of them.

Mr.Maynard had ordered a dainty and satisfying luncheon, and Marjorie and King soon found that thrilling experiences improve the appetite.
Led by Mr.Maynard, the table talk was gay, light, and entertaining; and though Mrs.Maynard could not quite play up to this key, yet she did her best, and carefully hid the tremors that shook her as she looked at her two older children.
"What became of Minnie Meyer ?" asked Marjorie, suddenly, for in the stress of circumstances she had almost forgotten the lame girl.
"I tried my best to persuade her to lunch with us," said Mrs.Maynard, "but she would not do so.

She was very shy and timid, and though very glad to have the ride, she was unwilling to let us do more for her.