Pin was her especial favourite and she made no secret of it. Her
companion on the platform was a cousin of Laura's, of at least twice
Laura's age, who invariably struck awe into the children by her loud and
ironic manner of speech. She was an independent, manly person, in spite
of her plump roundnesses; she lived by herself in lodgings, and earned
her own living as a clerk in an office.

The first greetings over, Godmother's attention was entirely taken up by
Laura's box: after this had been picked out from among the other
luggage, grave doubts were expressed whether it could be got on to the
back seat of the pony-carriage, to which it was conveyed by a porter and
the boy. Laura stood shyly by and waited, while Cousin Grace kept up the
conversation by putting abrupt and embarrassing questions.

"How's your ma?" she demanded rather than asked, in the slangy and
jocular tone she employed. "I guess she'll be thanking her stars she's
got rid of you;" at which Laura smiled uncertainly, not being sure
whether Cousin Grace spoke in jest or earnest.

"I suppose you think no end of yourself going to boarding-school?"
continued the latter.

"Oh no, not at all," protested Laura with due modesty; and as
both at question and answer Cousin Grace laughed boisterously, Laura was
glad to hear Godmother calling: "Come, jump in. The ponies won't stand."

Godmother was driving herself--a low basket-carriage, harnessed to two
buff-coloured ponies. Laura sat with her back to them. Godmother flapped
the reins and said: "Get up!" but she was still fretted about the box,
which was being held on behind by the boy. An inch larger, she asserted,