Abel started to obey, just as the young girl laid her hand on the
gate to open it.

"Won't you help me?" she asked. "The crowd is so great they won't
let me through."

"Won't they?" The words came from without. "Just slip out as I
slip in, and you'll find a place made for you."

Not recognising the voice, she hesitated for a moment, but seeing
the gate swaying, she pushed against it just as a young man
stepped through the gap. Necessarily they came face to face.

"Ah, it's you," he muttered, giving her a sharp glance.

"I do not know you," she haughtily declared, and slipped by him
with such dexterity she was out of the gate before he could
respond.

But he only snapped his finger and thumb mockingly at her, and
smiled knowingly at Abel, who had lingered to watch the end of
this encounter.

"Supple as a willow twig, eh?" he laughed. "Well, I have made
whistles out of willows before now, and hallo! where did you get
that?"

He was pointing to a rare flower that hung limp and faded from
Abel's buttonhole.