ed.

"It's these Parks," said Mrs. Mitchett, from behind her handkerchief.
"And to think that this'll be our first grandchild and all! 'Ilda is
difficult; as quiet, as quiet; but that stubborn--"

Pierson looked at the girl, who seemed, if anything, less interested than
ever. This impenetrability and something mulish in her attitude annoyed
him. "I can't think," he said, "how you could so have forgotten
yourself. It's truly grievous."

Mrs. Mitchett murmured: "Yes, sir; the girls gets it into their heads
that there's going to be no young men for them."

"That's right," said the girl sullenly.

Pierson's lips grew tighter. "Well, what can I do for you, Mrs.
Mitchett?" he said. "Does your daughter come to church?"

Mrs. Mitchett shook her head mournfully. "Never since she had her
byke."

Pierson rose from his chair. The old story! Control and discipline
undermined, and these bitter apples the result!

"Well," he said, "if you need our creche, you have only to come to me,"
and he turned to the girl. "And you--won't you let this dreadful
experience move your heart? My dear girl, we must all master ourselves,
our passions, and our foolish wilfulness, especially in these times when
our country needs us strong, and self-disciplined, not thinking of
ourselves. I'm sure you're a good girl at heart."

The girl's dark eyes, unmoved from his face, roused in him a spasm of
nervous irritation. "Your soul is in great danger, and you're very
unhappy, I can see. Turn to God for help, and in His mercy everything
will be made so different for you--so very different! Come!"

The girl said with a sort of surprising quietness: "I don't want the
baby!"

The remark staggered him, almost as if she had uttered a hideous oath.

"'Ilda was in munitions," said her mother in an explanatory voice:
"earnin' a matter of four pound a week. Oh! dear, it is a waste an'
all!" A queer, rather terrible little smile curled Pierson's lips.

"A judgment!" he said. "Good evening, Mrs. Mitchett. Good evening,
Hilda. If you want me when the time comes, send for me."

They stood up; he shook hands with them; and was suddenly aware that the
door was open, and Noel standing there. He had heard no sound; and how
long she had been there he could not tell. There was a singular fixity
in her face and attitude. She was staring at the girl, who, as she
passed, lifted her face, so that the dark eyes and the grey eyes met.
The door