him instantly to a feeling of positive gratitude for the other girl who was trying to protect her. The car had filled rapidly, and people, mechanically hanging themselves each by one hand from the overhead straps, swayed back and forth and trampled alike upon the feet of the just and the unjust, forming a solidly opaque screen between tormentor and tormented. Suddenly the whirr of the wheels and the demoniacal voice of the conductor crying: "Move up there--move up! There's room enough up front, if you'se'll step up to the end!" became faint and far off to the hearing of the grave-faced young man, whose gray eyes had discovered a little knot of wild violets snuggled into one of their own round green leaves and drawn through the button-hole of Dorothy's jacket. Through one dim moment he saw a boy's stumpy brown fist holding out a bunch of "vi'lets" to a sick white hand all netted over with distended blue veins, and heard a thin whispering voice saying: "And mother would have loved them quite as well if her boy had called them 'violets' instead of 'vi'lets,'" and the little blossoms became but a purple blur as he thought with a pang how long that dear admonishing voice had been silent. The crowd had increased, and Sybil, in bobbing her head this way and that in an effort to see just where they were, became conscious of a young woman standing before her. She was very pale, and great drops of perspiration stood on her hollow temples. She carried a heavy-looking baby in her arms, and, having no strap to hold to, she reeled and staggered and pitched with every sudden start or jerking stop of the car. Sybil, with a pitying exclamation, rose and gave her place to the poor, sick-looking creature, who, sinking into the seat, raised grateful, tear-filled eyes to the dark, glowing face above her, saying: "It's the baby--he's that heavy, or I wouldn't take it from you, ma'am." Then up sprang the old beau, and offered his place to Sybil, who coldly thanked him, but preferred to stand by her sister. But that was just what he proposed to do himself--to stand by her, and quite naturally to address a few words to that fair sister, and he so far forgot himself as to put his hand on Sybil's arm and try to force her into his seat, when suddenly the grave young man rose, touched the woman with the baby on the shoulder, and said: "Move into my place, please, and allow this young lady to resume her seat." The thing had been done so quickly that there was no time for thought, and the two quick "thank yous" of the girls were followed by a grateful smile and an upward glance of Dorrie's blue eyes straight into the face of the young man, who felt his hand tremble as he lifted his hat and silently made his way through the crowd to the rear platform.