A Sister of the Red Cross: A Tale of the South African War. L. T. Meade

only too glad to have been able to help you."

      "As far as I can tell, I owe my life to you," he replied.

      He looked at her as if he expected her to say more; but she did not ask his name. There was an expression of relief on his face as she turned away.

      "Good-night; God bless you!" he said. "I shall thank you for this in my heart to the longest day I live."

      She held out her hand, and he grasped it. Never before had he felt so strong, so cool, so firm, so strength-giving a hand.

      Mollie went back to the hospital, and in the rush and excitement of her daily life more or less forgot this incident. But to-night, when Captain Keith entered the room, it all came back to her; for the handsome, careless face of Gavon Keith was the very same she had seen, pale and under the influence of opium, a short time ago. She had noticed then the upright figure, the straight features, the shape of the eyes, the well-formed lips, and as she recognized him she saw by a light which suddenly rushed into his eyes that he recognized her.

      Mollie sat down and thought over this strange circumstance. She had been tired, really tired, when she left the drawing-room; but she was wide awake now, and not at all inclined to go to bed. It was past midnight when Kitty, her cheeks on fire, her eyes dancing, came into the room.

      "What!" said the younger sister; "still up, Mollie? I thought you were so sleepy! Do you know, I stayed downstairs on purpose just to give you a chance to get very sound asleep before I disturbed you."

      "I shall have plenty of time for sleep later on," replied Mollie.

      "Oh, you made me so jealous, my darling Moll, when you talked to Gavon; but I am all right now. I will just slip off my dress, put on my dressing-gown, and we can renew our delightful conversation while we brush our hair."

      "No," said Mollie, rising abruptly. "I find that, after all, I am tired. I want to go to bed."

      Kitty looked at her in some surprise.

      "But what does this mean?" she said. "I have so much to say to you. I cannot rest until you have told me what you think of him."

      "Think of whom, Kate?"

      "How stiff of you to call me Kate! No one does unless they are displeased. Are you displeased with me, my own Mollie—are you?"

      "You must not talk nonsense, Kitty," said Mollie, in a grave voice. "I am tired, and am really determined to go to bed. I shall not utter another word to keep you from your own rest."

      Kitty pouted, but Mollie was resolute. She was not a nurse for nothing. She knew that Kitty was already so excited that she might not sleep for some time. The sooner she got to bed, however, the better.

      With a discontented pout on her rosy lips Kitty watched her elder sister undress. The little girl was happy, however; the last hour with Gavon had chased all uncomfortable feelings away. He did love her—he must love her. Was there not love in his eyes and tenderness in his voice? The moment, therefore, she laid her head on her pillow she fell asleep, to dream of him.

      Not so Mollie. She felt uncomfortable and alarmed. She dreaded she knew not what. An intuition had already taken possession of her that Kitty's love affair was not to end happily. She doubted very much whether Keith really cared for her little sister. If so, what was to become of Kitty's passion? Keith had looked at Mollie as if he wished to confide in her. Would he allude to that circumstance in both their lives which had taken place a few months ago?

      It was towards morning when the tired girl sank into slumber, and in consequence it was late before she arose. When she opened her eyes, Kitty was standing over her.

      "Gavon has gone out long ago," she said, "and Aunt Louisa too; and it is nearly ten o'clock, and we have all breakfasted. And you, you lazy girl, are to have breakfast all by yourself in the morning-room. Or would you prefer it here?"

      "Oh no; I am ashamed of myself," said Mollie. "I will get up at once and join you downstairs within half an hour."

      "You are privileged, you know, Mollie dear," said Kitty. "Aunt Louisa says the carriage is to return for us both at eleven o'clock. I want to do some shopping, and I thought perhaps you would come with me."

      "With pleasure, dear," replied Mollie.

      The moment her sister left the room she rose, dressed in her nurse's uniform, and went downstairs. When she entered the morning-room Kitty was seated at the tea tray, looking as radiant and free from care as girl could look.

      "Gavon was in a great state of excitement when he went off this morning," she said to her sister. "He is persuaded there will be war."

      "Well, and if there is war," said Mollie, "it will do us a great deal of good. Oh, I know you think me heartless, but our army wants active service again. We need to test our strength."

      "You talk just as though you belonged to the army yourself," said Kitty.

      "And so I do. If there is fighting, I shall be in the thick of it."

      "You don't think of me," cried Kitty, turning pale. "Please remember that if there is fighting Gavon is certain to be sent to the front. You will go as nurse, and he will go as soldier. What is to become of poor Kitty?"

      "Kitty will be brave, and help us all she can at home," replied Mollie.

      "That is all very fine," said Kitty, "but I must tell you frankly I don't like the rôle."

      Mollie looked up as Kitty spoke.

      "You are changed," she said slowly. "In some ways I should not know you."

      "What do you mean?"

      "You have been too much in the world, Kitty. My little Kitty, did I do wrong to leave you? When mother died she left you in my charge. Did I do wrong to let Mrs. Keith adopt you? It seems to me—I scarcely like to say it—that you—"

      "Oh, do say it, please—do say it," remarked Kitty.

      "You are less unselfish than you used to be, and more—oh, I hate myself even for thinking it—more worldly."

      "No, no, I am not; but I am anxious," replied the younger girl. "There are many things to make me—yes, anxious just now. But I hope I shall be the happiest girl on earth soon."

      "Kitty, suppose—"

      "Suppose what?" asked Kitty. "Oh, what awful thing are you going to say now, Mollie?"

      "Nothing. I won't say it," replied Mollie suddenly. "I have finished breakfast. I can go out with you whenever you like."

      Kitty gazed in a frightened way at her sister.

      "It is nothing, dear," said Mollie tenderly. "I have given you my little lecture, and I will say nothing further at present."

      "And I am not all bad, and I love you, and I hope to be the happiest girl on earth before long," was Kitty's rejoinder. And then she flew upstairs to put on her hat and jacket.

      The girls drove first to Madame Dupuys, a fashionable dressmaker in Bond Street. Madame received them both in her large showroom. Her face was rather grave.

      "I had hoped to have a letter from you before now, Miss Hepworth," she said, in a significant tone, to Kitty.

      "It is all right," replied Kitty. "You may expect to hear from me any day."

      "Very well, miss."

      "And I want to order a dress at once. I am going on Monday evening to the fancy ball at the Countess of Marsden's house on the Thames. I cannot possibly wear any of my old dresses."

      "What will you have?" asked the dressmaker.

      "Something very, very pretty, and absolutely out of the common. Madame, I should like to introduce my sister to you; she is a Red Cross nurse."

      Madame bowed gravely in Mollie's direction. She was a very handsome woman, beautifully dressed.

      "We are