"I am sure it is a fly," cried little Kate, shading her eyes that she might see the better.

"And I tell you it is not," retorted Alfred. "That thing, whatever it is, is coming at a snail's pace, like a waggon. Do you suppose Edina would come in a waggon, little stupid?"

"I don't think it is a waggon," said Major Raynor, who had the aid of an opera-glass. "It has two horses, at any rate. The driver is whipping them up, too: and see—it is coming along now at a smart pace. I should say it is a fly."

Every now and then the vehicle lost itself behind trees and hedges and turnings from the temporary glimpses they caught, it seemed to have something like a cart-load of luggage upon its roof. Which was extremely unlikely to belong to Edina.

On it came: its rumble could now be heard, though it was no longer visible. All ears were bent to it: and

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