e heavier. "When my brother went to France, I thought it was
a grand thing--I was awfully proud. It's a different thing now." She
looked at Margaret keenly. "Has someone you care for gone to the
Front? Is he in yon train?" She indicated the vanishing train.

Margaret's eyes answered. The woman saw that she was making an effort
to keep calm.

"But he's not leaving his little ones behind him--ye'll no be married?
I've got two at home to keep."

"You have his children--I have nothing," Margaret said enviously.

The woman burst into fresh weeping. Margaret envied her abandonment.

"They are a comfort," she said, "in a way. But they're a deal of
trouble and anxiety--ye're well off without them."

The woman looked poor and clean. Half a crown left Margaret's purse
and took its place beside the coppers which lay in the woman's. It
seemed to her horribly vulgar and insulting to offer the woman money as
a form of comfort, but her knowledge of the very poor told her that on
a cold northern night, the feeling that an extra half-crown had been
added to her income would help. It would "keep the home-fire burning"
for a week or so, at least.

With quick feet Margaret retraced her steps to the free
refreshment-room. Her selfish absence from her post pricked her
conscience. When she entered it she saw that it was almost empty. One
man was lying stretched out at full length on a seat; a pillow was
under his head and he was fast asleep. He had lost his "connection"
and would not be able to get a train until after midnight. He was safe
from temptation in the hospitable room. Another man was writing
letters at the big table; he had already addressed half a dozen
postcards.

Margaret knew that in this quiet interval her aunt would be busy
washing up and drying the dirty cups at the wash-basin in the inner
ladies' room. She hurried to join her.

"Have I been very long?" she said. "I do feel so selfish."

"No, no, my dear," her aunt said quickly. "I managed quite well--the
rush had ceased." She looked at her niece questioningly. "I suppose
you recognized a friend?"

"I saw a man, aunt, amongst the soldiers, whom I knew very well in
Egypt. He was Freddy's best friend. I haven't seen him since. I
wonder if he knows that Freddy is dead? I wanted to speak to him if I
could."

"And did you?"

"No." Margaret's voice trembled. "He had got into the train. The men
were packed like sardines, and I couldn't