while in such a whirl that it was difficult
for him to realise what he was doing.

At that point Bridget opened the door. He turned to shake hands with
her, and then resumed his fumbling.

'I'm sure they did give them to me'--he said, in some concern,--'two
letters and a telegram.'

'A telegram!' said Bridget, suddenly, hurrying forward,--'it must be for
me.'

She peremptorily held out her hand, and as she did so, Nelly caught
sight of her sister. Startled out of all other thoughts she too made a
step forward. What _was_ wrong with Bridget? The tall, gaunt woman stood
there livid, her eyes staring at Farrell, her hand unsteady as she
thrust it towards him.

'Give me the telegram, please! I was expecting one,' she said, trying to
speak as usual.

Farrell turned to her in surprise.

'But it wasn't for you, Miss Cookson. It was for Mrs. Sarratt. I saw the
address quite plainly. Ah, here they are. How stupid of me! What on
earth made me put them in that pocket.'

He drew out the letters and the telegram. Bridget said again--'Give it
me, please! I know it's for me!' And she tried to snatch it. Farrell's
face changed. He disliked Bridget Cookson heartily, mainly on Nelly's
account, and her rude persistence nettled a temper accustomed to
command. He quietly put her aside.

'When your sister has read it, Miss Cookson, she will no doubt let you
see it. As it happens, the post-mistress made me promise to give it to
Mrs. Sarratt myself. She seemed interested--I don't know why.'

Nelly took it. Farrell--who began to have some strange misgiving--stood
between her and Bridget. Bridget made no further movement. Her eyes were
fixed on Nelly.

Nelly, bewildered by the little scene and by Bridget's extraordinary
behaviour, tore open the brown envelope, and read slowly--'Please come
at once. Have some news for you. Your sister will explain. Howson, Base
Headquarters, X------, France.'

'Howson?' said Nelly. Then the colour began to ebb from her face. 'Dr.
Howson?' she repeated. 'What news? What does he mean? _Oh_!'--the cry
rang through the room--'_it's George_!--it's George! he's
found!--he's found!'

She thrust the telegram piteously into Farrell's hands. He read it, and
turned to Bridget.

'What does Dr. Howson mean, Miss Cookson, and why does he refer Mrs.
Sarratt to you?'

For some seconds she could not make her pale lips reply. Finally, she
said--'That's entirely my own affair, Sir William. I shall tell my
sist