will pay this sixpence, and you can give it me again, when you buy your
ticket in the office."

I smiled quickly, gladly; and he smiled back upon me, but gravely, as if
his face was not used to a smile. I passed on into the station, where a
train was standing, and people hurrying about the platform, choosing
their carriages. At the ticket-office they changed my Australian
gold-piece without a word; and I sought out my seaman friend to return
the sixpence he had paid to me. He had done me a greater kindness than
he could ever know, and I thanked him heartily. His honest, deep-set,
blue eyes glistened under their shaggy eyebrows as they looked down upon
me.

"Can I do nothing more for you, mam'zelle?" he asked. "Shall I see after
your luggage?"

"Oh! that will be all right, thank you," I replied, "but is this the
train for Southampton, and how soon will it start?"

I was watching anxiously the stream of people going to and fro, lest I
should see some person who knew me. Yet who was there in London who
could know me?

"It will be off in five minutes," answered the seaman. "Shall I look out
a carriage for you?"

He was somewhat careful in making his selection; finally he put me into
a compartment where there were only two ladies, and he stood in front of
the door, but with his back turned toward it, until the train was about
to start. Then he touched his hat again with a gesture of farewell, and