Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
CHAPTER
VII. "COME LIFE, COME DEATH, THEY'RE SAFE"
"OH, do you think the train is running away?"
The startled question came from a little dark-eyed, pale-faced boy ofabout ten years of age, who was making the journey from Paddington toExeter by the fastest train which runs. He occupied a corner seat in athird-class compartment, his only companions being an elderly gentlemanand a young soldier at the other end of the compartment. It was theyoung soldier who answered him.
"No, sonny," he said, smiling; "it's all right, I assure you. I've beenover this line many times, and the train always puts on speed abouthere."
He moved along the carriage as he spoke, and took the place oppositethe little boy. He was quite a lad himself, barely twenty, but tall andstrongly made, with a bronzed complexion and very blue eyes. He peeredout of the window for a minute into the mist—it was a dull Novemberday—then gave his attention to the little boy again.
"Was that your father who saw you off at Paddington?" he askedpleasantly.
"Oh, no!" the little boy replied. "My father died years ago. That wasthe master of—of the Institution where I've been staying since—sincemy mother was killed. She was killed in the Zeppelin raid last month.She—she—"
He broke off with a choking sob, whilst a tear rolled down his cheek.He brushed the tear away with the back of his hand, and bit hisquivering lip.
"Oh, I am sorry!" exclaimed the young soldier. "I've a mother myself,and I know what I should feel—" He stopped abruptly and turned again tothe window. "Poor kiddie!" he muttered to himself.
"What's your name?" he asked, after a brief silence, lookin