Mary and just as suddenly as she had begun to be rather
sorry for Mr. Archibald Craven she began to cease to be
sorry and to think he was unpleasant enough to deserve
all that had happened to him. 

And she turned her face toward the streaming panes of the
window of the railway carriage and gazed out at the gray
rain-storm which looked as if it would go on forever and ever. 
She watched it so long and steadily that the grayness
grew heavier and heavier before her eyes and she fell asleep. 

CHAPTER III

ACROSS THE MOOR

She slept a long time, and when she awakened Mrs. Medlock
had bought a lunchbasket at one of the stations and they
had some chicken and cold beef and bread and butter and
some hot tea.  The rain seemed to be streaming down more
heavily than ever and everybody in the station wore wet
and glistening waterproofs.  The guard lighted the lamps
in the carriage, and Mrs. Medlock cheered up very much
over her tea and chicken and beef.  She ate a great deal
and afterward fell asleep herself, and Mary sat and stared
at her and watched her fine bonnet slip on one side until she
herself fell asleep once more in the corner of the carriage,
lulled by the splashing of the rain against the windows. 
It was quite dark when she awakened again.  The train
had stopped at a station and Mrs. Medlock was shaking her. 

"You have had a sleep!" she said.  "It's time to open
your eyes! We're at Thwaite Station and we've got a long
drive before us."

Mary stood up and tried to keep her eyes open while
Mrs. Medlock collected her parcels.  The little
girl did not offer to help her, because in India
native servants always picked up or carried things
and it seemed quite proper that other people should wait on one. 

The station was a small one and nobody but themselves
seemed to be getting out of the train.  The station-master
spoke to Mrs. Medlock in a rough, good-natured way,
pronouncing his words in a queer broad fashion which Mary
found out afterward was Yorkshire. 

"I see tha's got back," he said.  "An' tha's browt th'
young 'un with thee."

"Aye, that's her," answered Mrs. Medlock, speaking with
a Yorkshire accent herself and jerking her head over
her shoulder toward Mary.  "How's thy Missus?"

"Well enow.  Th' carriage is waitin' outside for thee."

A brougham stood on the road before the little
outside platform.  Mary saw that it was a smart carriage
and that it was a smart footman who helped her in. 
His long waterproof coat and the waterproof covering of his
hat were shining and dripping with rain as everything was,
the burly station-master included. 

When he shut the door, mounted the box with the coachman,
and they drove off, the little girlfound herself seated
in a comfortably cushioned corner, but she was not inclined
to go to sleep again.  She sat and looked out of the window,
curious to see something of the road over which she
was being driven to the queer place Mrs. Medlock had
spoken of.  She was not at all a timid child and she was
not exactly frightened, but she felt that there was no
knowing what might happen in a house with a hundred rooms
nearly all shut up--a house standing on the edge of a moor. 

"What is a moor?" she said suddenly to Mrs. Medlock. 

"Look out of the window in about ten minutes and you'll see,"
the woman answered.  "We've got to drive five miles across
Missel Moor before we get to the Manor.  You won't see
much because it's a dark night, but you can see something."

Mary asked no more questions but waited in the darkness
of her corner, keeping her eyes on the window.  The carriage
lamps cast rays of light a little distance ahead of them
and she caught glimpses of the things they passed. 
After they had left the station they had driven through a
tiny village and she had seen whitewashed cottages and the
lights of a public house.  Then they had passed a church
and a vicarage and a little shop-window or so in a cottage
with toys and sweets and odd things set our for sale. 
Then they were on the highroad and she saw hedges and trees. 
After that there seemed nothing different for a long
time--or at least it seemed a long time to her. 

At last the horses began to go more slowly, as if they
were climbing up-hill, and presently there seemed to be
no more hedges and no more trees.  She could see nothing,
in fact, but a dense darkness on either side.  She leaned
forward and pressed her face against the window just
as the carriage gave a big jolt.