thing in her life with her aunt. A
peck of a kiss was the only mark of affection that they had hitherto
exchanged. Winona looked and longed to express her sympathy, but the
invisible barrier seemed strong as ever. Aunt Harriet turned aside and
went towards the kitchen. The opportunity was lost.

"How horribly we live right inside ourselves!" thought Winona. "How few
people know just what we're feeling and thinking, and how hard it is to
let them know! The 'I' at the back of me is so different from the
outside of me! When I want to say things I turn stupid and my tongue
stops. I suppose most other people feel really the same, and we all live
in our own little world and only touch one another now and then. Human
speech is such a poor medium. Will it be dropped in the next life, and
shall we talk with our hearts?"

It was on the very morning after this that Winona received an agitated
letter from home. Her mother had bad news. Percy had been wounded, and
was in the Red Cross Hospital at Prestwick. Mrs. Woodward wrote
hurriedly, for she was on the point of starting off to see him, but she
promised to send a bulletin directly after her visit. Winona spent a
horrible day. Percy was never for a moment out of her thoughts. The
insufficiency of the information made it harder to bear. She did not
know whether the wound was slight or dangerous, and her fears whispered
the worst. The next report, however, was more reassuring. Percy had had
an operation and the doctors hoped that with care he ought to do well. A
daily bulletin would be sent to his mother, and she promised to forward
it punctually to Abbey Close.

"But I shan't get it till the day afterwards!" exclaimed Winona
tragically. "Oh, how I wish he were at the Red Cross Hospital here
instead of at Prestwick! If I could only see him!"

"Cheer up! Things might be worse!" remarked her aunt briefly.

Miss Beach said no more at the moment, but at supper time she announced:

"We shall have to breakfast early to-morrow morning, Winona. You and I
are going to Prestwick for the day. I've asked Miss Bishop to let you
off."

"To Prestwick?" gasped Winona. "To the Red Cross Hospital? Oh, Aunt
Harriet, do you suppose they'll let us see Percy?"

"It's visitors' day, for I telegraphed to inquire. I wasn't going on a
wild-goose chase, I assure you. I know the red tape of hospitals only
too well. We may see him between two-thirty and four o'clock. It's a
long journey, of course, an