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the crowd, which stood a little while in the booking office talking and looking at the fast closed yellow door, and then by ones and twos went its way, grumbling.

Inside the Station Masterā€™s room Bobbie still held the strangerā€™s hand and stroked his sleeve.

ā€œHereā€™s a go,ā€ said the Station Master; ā€œno ticketā ā€”doesnā€™t even know where he wants to go. Iā€™m not sure now but what I ought to send for the police.ā€

ā€œOh, donā€™t!ā€ all the children pleaded at once. And suddenly Bobbie got between the others and the stranger, for she had seen that he was crying.

By a most unusual piece of good fortune she had a handkerchief in her pocket. By a still more uncommon accident the handkerchief was moderately clean. Standing in front of the stranger, she got out the handkerchief and passed it to him so that the others did not see.

ā€œWait till Mother comes,ā€ Phyllis was saying; ā€œshe does speak French beautifully. Youā€™d just love to hear her.ā€

ā€œIā€™m sure he hasnā€™t done anything like youā€™re sent to prison for,ā€ said Peter.

ā€œLooks like without visible means to me,ā€ said the Station Master. ā€œWell, I donā€™t mind giving him the benefit of the doubt till your Mamma comes. I should like to know what nationā€™s got the credit of him, that I should.ā€

Then Peter had an idea. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket, and showed that it was half full of foreign stamps.

ā€œLook here,ā€ he said, ā€œletā€™s show him theseā ā€”ā€

Bobbie looked and saw that the stranger had dried his eyes with her handkerchief. So she said: ā€œAll right.ā€

They showed him an Italian stamp, and pointed from him to it and back again, and made signs of question with their eyebrows. He shook his head. Then they showed him a Norwegian stampā ā€”the common blue kind it wasā ā€”and again he signed No. Then they showed him a Spanish one, and at that he took the envelope from Peterā€™s hand and searched among the stamps with a hand that trembled. The hand that he reached out at last, with a gesture as of one answering a question, contained a Russian stamp.

ā€œHeā€™s Russian,ā€ cried Peter, ā€œor else heā€™s like ā€˜the man who wasā€™ā ā€”in Kipling, you know.ā€

The train from Maidbridge was signalled.

ā€œIā€™ll stay with him till you bring Mother in,ā€ said Bobbie.

ā€œYouā€™re not afraid, Missie?ā€

ā€œOh, no,ā€ said Bobbie, looking at the stranger, as she might have looked at a strange dog of doubtful temper. ā€œYou wouldnā€™t hurt me, would you?ā€

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, a queer crooked smile. And then he coughed again. And the heavy rattling swish of the incoming train swept past, and the Station Master and Peter and Phyllis went out to meet it. Bobbie was still holding the strangerā€™s hand when they came back with Mother.

The Russian rose and bowed very ceremoniously.

Then Mother spoke in French, and he replied, haltingly at first, but presently in longer and longer sentences.

The children, watching his face and Motherā€™s, knew that he was telling her things that made her angry and pitying, and sorry and indignant all at once.

ā€œWell, Mum, whatā€™s it all about?ā€ The Station Master could not restrain his curiosity any longer.

ā€œOh,ā€ said Mother, ā€œitā€™s all right. Heā€™s a Russian, and heā€™s lost his ticket. And Iā€™m afraid heā€™s very ill. If you donā€™t mind, Iā€™ll take him home with me now. Heā€™s really quite worn out. Iā€™ll run down and tell you all about him tomorrow.ā€

ā€œI hope you wonā€™t find youā€™re taking home a frozen viper,ā€ said the Station Master, doubtfully.

ā€œOh, no,ā€ Mother said brightly, and she smiled; ā€œIā€™m quite sure Iā€™m not. Why, heā€™s a great man in his own country, writes booksā ā€”beautiful booksā ā€”Iā€™ve read some of them; but Iā€™ll tell you all about it tomorrow.ā€

She spoke again in French to the Russian, and everyone could see the surprise and pleasure and gratitude in his eyes. He got up and politely bowed to the Station Master, and offered his arm most ceremoniously to Mother. She took it, but anybody could have seen that she was helping him along, and not he her.

ā€œYou girls run home and light a fire in the sitting-room,ā€ Mother said, ā€œand Peter had better go for the Doctor.ā€

But it was Bobbie who went for the Doctor.

ā€œI hate to tell you,ā€ she said breathlessly when she came upon him in his shirt sleeves, weeding his pansy-bed, ā€œbut Motherā€™s got a very shabby Russian, and Iā€™m sure heā€™ll have to belong to your Club. Iā€™m certain he hasnā€™t got any money. We found him at the station.ā€

ā€œFound him! Was he lost, then?ā€ asked the Doctor, reaching for his coat.

ā€œYes,ā€ said Bobbie, unexpectedly, ā€œthatā€™s just what he was. Heā€™s been telling Mother the sad, sweet story of his life in French; and she said would you be kind enough to come directly if you were at home. He has a dreadful cough, and heā€™s been crying.ā€

The Doctor smiled.

ā€œOh, donā€™t,ā€ said Bobbie; ā€œplease donā€™t. You wouldnā€™t if youā€™d seen him. I never saw a man cry before. You donā€™t know what itā€™s like.ā€

Dr. Forrest wished then that he hadnā€™t smiled.

When Bobbie and the Doctor got to Three Chimneys, the Russian was sitting in the armchair that had been Fatherā€™s, stretching his feet to the blaze of a bright wood fire, and sipping the tea Mother had made him.

ā€œThe man seems worn out, mind and body,ā€ was what the Doctor said; ā€œthe coughā€™s bad, but thereā€™s nothing that canā€™t be cured. He ought to go straight to bed, thoughā ā€”and let him have a fire at night.ā€

ā€œIā€™ll make one in my room; itā€™s the only one with a fireplace,ā€ said Mother. She did, and presently the Doctor helped the stranger to bed.

There was a big black trunk in Motherā€™s room that none of the children had ever seen unlocked. Now, when she had lighted the fire, she unlocked it and took some clothes outā ā€”menā€™s clothesā ā€”and set them to air by the newly lighted fire. Bobbie, coming in with more wood for the fire, saw the mark on

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