to have him in his
uniform. But the trouble I had to get him to have it taken! For no
inducement in the world but to please me would he appear in uniform
when not on duty, he said."

And now he lay, like Nicanor, "dead in his harness."

Mrs Macmichel was seated directly in front of the enlarged photograph.
Its eyes looked straight into hers as she lifted them, with, it seemed
to her, an infinite sadness.

"Is it not strange that we should both be mothers of only sons?"

It was not, in fact, a very remarkable coincidence, but the visitor
conceded that it was strange.

"It ought to be a bond of sympathy between us."

"Yes."

Mrs Macmichel's eyes were turned uneasily upon the door at which the
servant had suddenly appeared.

"Mrs Pyman is afraid she can't wait any longer now, ma'am. She wouldn't
keep you more'n a minute, if you could speak to her, she says."

Mrs Macmichel put out a hand and gripped the arm of her hostess as she
rose from her seat--"Don't--" she said imploringly, "don't go! We are
so--so comfortable."

She could not but be flattered, although she could not help being
surprised. "Tell Anne Pyman, I am sorry," Mrs Jones said to the maid,
who, however, stood her ground.

"And cook say, the butcher have been, and can she speak to you for a
minute, ma'am?" she asked.

The butcher! He who had brought the terrible news. In her eagerness Mrs
Macmichel turned to the servant standing at the door.

"No," she said, "certainly not! Your mistress cannot come."

The miserable, not to be repressed chuckle of laughter took her again
as the girl withdrew. "You must think me strange," she said to the
lady, gazing at her with astonished eyes. "But I _am_ strange. We are
getting on so well. I don't like to be interrupted. Go on. You were
saying----?"

"About the bond of sympathy: our only children. I'm afraid the
bread-and-butter is too substantial; will you try a bun instead?"

"It is delicious!" Flora Macmichel said, and put the slice again to her
lips, and again placed it unbitten in the saucer.

"There is," said the clergyman's wife in a lowered tone, "something
awful--I mean in the sense of being full of awe--in being entrusted by
God with only one child. Don't you think that much more will be
required of us, and of them--our dear children?"

Mrs Macmichel had not thought of it in that light.

"You see, we have no others to share our devotion, to distract our
attention. Our only one should be, as