starve to-morrow
unless Mr. Alton, who is apparently not to be paid for it, makes what
must be a very arduous march to-night?" she said.

"I'm afraid it did not," said Townshead, with a fine unconcern. "I
think you understand, my dear, that I leave the commissariat to you,
and you have a way of putting things which jars upon one occasionally."

A little trace of colour crept into the girl's cheek, but it faded
again as she sat down beside the stove. Still, now and then she
pricked her fingers with the needle, which she had not done before, and
finally laid down the fabric and laughed softly. "There is," she said,
"something distinctly humorous in the whole position."

"You," said her father, "had always a somewhat peculiar sense of
humour."

"Well," said his daughter with a slight quiver of her lips, "I feel
that I must either cry or laugh to-night. Do you know there is
scarcely enough for breakfast in the house, and that I am dreadfully
hungry now?"

Townshead glanced at her reproachfully. "Either one or the other would
be equally distasteful to me," he said.

The girl sighed, and turned away to thrust a few small billets into the
stove. She chose them carefully, for the big box whose ugliness she
had hidden by a strip of cheap printed cotton was almost empty. The
hired man, seeing no prospect of receiving his wages, had departed
after a stormy interview, and shortly after his son followed him.
Townshead discovered that sawing wood was especially unsuited to his
constitution. Then the girl increased the draught a little and
endeavoured to repress a shiver. The house was damp for want of proper
packing, and the cold wind that came down from the high peaks moaned
about it eerily. It was also very lonely, and the girl, who was young,
felt a great longing for human fellowship.

Her father presently took up a book, and there was silence only broken
by the rattle of loose shingles overhead and the soft thud against the
windows of driving snow, while the girl sat dreaming over her sewing of
the brighter days in far-off England which had slipped away from her
for ever. Five years was not a very long time, but during it her
English friends had forgotten her, and one who had scarcely left her
side that memorable night had, though she read of the doings of his
regiment now and then, sent her no word or token. A little flush crept
into her cheek as, remembering certain words of his, she glanced at her
reddened