'd sent word, I dare say they'd have got a special," he added,
with a sarcastic laugh.

"I'll give her something to eat," said the woman, without a smile at
his joke. "I dare say she'll feel better then. She looks to me dead
beat," and she laid Jessie gently back, and went behind the counter
and poured her out a basin of soup from some that was being kept hot
there. To Jessie, who had had no food since breakfast-time, the soup
brought new life. She took it all, and a large slice of bread with
it, to the great satisfaction of her new friend, who watched
delightedly the colour coming back to the poor little white face.

"Where do you want to get to, to-night?" she asked, turning to Harry
Lang.

"London."

"Um! The next train that stops here doesn't come in till 10.15.
It is a long time for her to wait, and late for her to get home."

"'Tisn't going to kill her," answered Jessie's father shortly.
"Everybody has got something to put up with sometimes. She is lucky
not to have to walk all the way." He hated to be asked questions,
and grew cross at being obliged to answer them.

"It's my opinion she'd never reach the other end if she had to do
that," said the woman curtly. Then, turning to Jessie, she said
gently, "If you lie back again, dear, maybe you'll be able to sleep,
and that will rest you, and help to pass the time too."

Jessie, only too glad to obey, and not to have to move her aching
body again, nestled back on the hard cushions, and turning her face
away from the light, shut her eyes, and soon was miles away from her
present surroundings and her miseries, in a deep dreamless sleep, and
she knew nothing more until she was wakened suddenly by a tremendous
rumbling and shaking, puffing and roaring, close at hand, which made
her start up in a terrible panic of alarm.

For a moment she did not realize where she was or what had happened;
her brain was dazed, her eyes full of sleep. Then her father came
in, and seizing her by the arm hurried her out of the room and across
the platform to the brightly-lighted train drawn up there. He gave
her no time for farewells to the kind-hearted woman who had helped
her so much, nor did he thank her himself. Poor Jessie could only
look back over her shoulder and try to thank her with her eyes and
smiles.

"Thank you very much," she called out, her voice sounding very weak
and small in the midst of all the uproar; but the gratitude on her
face and in her eyes sp