mouth that opened to tell us delightedly that she and the town
were "full up"; that never had there been known such a rush of
visitors; applicants were being turned away every hour from
every door!

After three miserable hours spent in this way we began
inquiring at all the shops, and eventually at one were told of
a poor woman in a small house in a street a good way back from
the front who would perhaps be able to taken us in. To this
place we went and knocked at a low door in a long blank wall
in a narrow street; it was opened to us by a pale thin
sad-looking woman in a rusty black gown, who asked us into a
shabby parlour, and agreed to take us in until we could find
something better. She had a gentle voice and was full of
sympathy, and seeing our plight took us into the kitchen
behind the parlour, which was living- and working-room as
well, to dry ourselves by the fire.

"The greatest pleasure in life," said once a magnificent young
athlete, a great pedestrian, to me, "is to rest when you are
tired." And, I should add, to dry and warm yourself by a big
fire when wet and cold, and to eat and drink when you are
hungry and thirsty. All these pleasures were now ours, for
very soon tea and chops were ready for us; and so strangely
human, so sister-like did this quiet helpful woman seem after
our harsh experiences on that rough rainy day--that we
congratulated ourselves on our good fortune in having found
such a haven, and soon informed her that we wanted no "better
place."