words about Harriett--a description of her
that might have applied to Emma--little emphatic tender epithets came
to her from the conversations of the girls. Fraulein praised her German
warmly and asked question after question about the house and garden at
Barnes and presently of her mother.

"I can't talk about her," said Miriam shortly.

"That is English," murmured Fraulein.

"She's such a little thing," said Miriam, "smaller than any of us."
Presently Fraulein laid her gloved hand on Miriam's gloved one. "You and
I have, I think, much in common."

Miriam froze--and looked at the gas-lamps slowly swinging by along the
boulevard. "Much will have happened in England whilst you have been here
with us," said Fraulein eagerly.

They reached a street--shuttered darkness where the shops were, and here
and there the yellow flare of a cafe. She strained her eyes to see the
faces and forms of men and women--breathing more quickly as she watched
the characteristic German gait.

There was the station.

Her trunk was weighed and registered. There was something to pay.
She handed her purse to Fraulein and stood gazing at the uniformed
man--ruddy and clear-eyed--clear hard blue eyes and hard clean clear
yellow moustaches--decisive untroubled movements. Passengers were
walking briskly about and laughing and shouting remarks to each other.
The train stood waiting for her. The ringing of an enormous bell brought
her hands to her ears. Fraulein gently propelled her up the three steps
into a compartment marked Damen--Coupe. It smelt of biscuits and wine.

A man with a booming voice came to examine her ticket. He stood bending
under the central light, uttering sturdy German words. Miriam drank them
in without understanding. He left the carriage very empty. The great
bell was ringing again. Fraulein standing on the top step pressed both
her hands and murmured words of farewell.

"Leb' wohl, mein Kind, Gott segne dich."

"Good-bye, Fraulein," she said stiffly, shaking hands.

The door was shut with a slam--the light seemed to go down. Miriam
glanced at it--half the dull green muslin shade had slipped over the
gas-globe. The carriage seemed dark. The platform outside was very
bright. Fraulein had disappeared. The train was high above the platform.
Politely smiling Miriam scrambled to the window. The platform was
moving, the large bright station moving away. Fraulein's wide smile
was creasing and caverning under her hat from whic