Then the unexpected happened.

Mrs. de Vere Carter rose with a smile of welcome. In her mind's eye
she saw the touching story already in print--the tattered hero--the
gracious lady--the age of Democracy. The stage was laid and that dark,
pale young man had only to watch and listen.

"Ah, one of our dear heroes! My poor, brave man! A cup of tea, my
dear," turning to William's thunderstruck mother. "And he may sit
down, may he not?" She kept her face well turned towards the
sardonic-looking Mr. Lewes. He must not miss a word or gesture. "How
_proud_ we are to do anything for our dear heroes! Wounded, perhaps?
Ah, poor man!" She floated across to him with a cup of tea and plied
him with bread and butter and cake. William sat down meekly on a
chair, looking rather pale. Mr. Blank, whose philosophy was to take
the goods the gods gave and not look to the future, began to make a
hearty meal. "Are you looking for work, my poor man?" asked Mrs. de
Vere Carter, leaning forward in her chair.

Her poor man replied with simple, manly directness that he "was dam'd
if he was. See?" Mr. Lewes began to discuss The Drama with Robert.
Mrs. de Vere Carter raised her voice.

"_How_ you must have suffered! Yes, there is suffering ingrained in
your face. A piece of shrapnel? Ten inches square? Right in at one hip
and out at the other? Oh, my poor man! _How_ I feel for you. How all
class distinctions vanish at such a time. How----"

[Illustration: "ARE YOU LOOKING FOR WORK, MY POOR MAN?" ASKED MRS. DE
VERE CARTER.]

She stopped while Mr. Blank drank his tea. In fact, all conversation
ceased while Mr. Blank drank his tea, just as conversation on a
station ceases while a train passes through.

Mrs. Brown looked helplessly around her. When Mr. Blank had eaten a
plate of sandwiches, a plate of bread and butter, and half a cake, he
rose slowly, keeping one hand over the pocket in which reposed the
silver ornaments.

"Well 'm," he said, touching his cap. "Thank you kindly. I've 'ad a
fine tea. I 'ave. A dam' fine tea. An' I'll not forget yer kindness to
a pore ole soldier." Here he winked brazenly at William. "An' good day
ter you orl."

Mrs. de Vere Carter floated out to the front door with him, and
William followed as in a dream.

Mrs. Brown found her voice.

"We'd better have the chair disinfected," she murmured to Ethel.

Then Mrs. de Vere Carter returned smiling to herself and eyeing the
young editor surmisingly.

"I witnes