Mrs Annie Akroyd," but in a
woman's hand. She opened the envelope and proceeded to read it aloud.

"Dear Mrs Akroyd,--You will have received a telegram from the War Office
telling you of your husband's death----"

As she heard the dreadful tidings, Annie turned deadly pale for a
moment; then the blood rushed streaming back, till face and neck were
crimson.

"It's a lee," she shouted, "a wicked lee. I ain't gotten no tillygram,
an' he said he were well an' enjoyin' a rest-cure."

Then she snatched the letter from her mother's trembling hands and, with
swimming eyes, read it to herself. It had been written by the hospital
nurse, and continued as follows:--

"He was terribly wounded when he was brought here, but I cannot tell you
how splendid he was. All his thoughts were of you and your little boy,
and he would write to you himself, though I wanted him to give me the
pencil and paper. He said that if he didn't write himself, you would
know that something was wrong with him.

"The Colonel came here specially to see him, and he told me that he
should certainly recommend him for the V.C. Your husband was a brave man
and did brave things; he gave his life to save another's. He was wounded
with shrapnel in the head and spine as he was crossing No Man's Land.
The officer to whom he was attached as orderly had been hit in one of
the shell-holes, and your husband crawled out of his trench in full view
of the enemy's line, and brought him back. It was on the return journey
that he received his wounds. The officer is safe, and will recover.

"Great as your sorrow must be, I hope you will be cheered by the thought
that your husband laid down his life for you and me and all of us. If
the V.C. is granted, you will have to go to Buckingham Palace to receive
it, and I am sure the King would like you to take your little boy with
you.

"Yours in truest sympathy,

"Nurse Goodwin."

When Annie had finished the letter she let it fall, and, staggering to a
seat, flung her hands, still wet and bleached with the labours of the
washtub, upon the table; then, burying her face in them she sobbed her
heart out.

"I don't want no V.C.," she exclaimed at last, between her sobs. "I want
my Jim!"

A Miracle

Sam Ineson and Jerry Coggill were seasoned soldiers long before the
Palestine campaign began. They had spent two winters in the trenches of
France and Flanders, and when the news reached them that their battalion
had been