A feeling of great disappointment oppresses Miles and his friend Armstrong, for they fail to recognise in the eager crowd those whom they had expected to see. "My mother must be ill," muttered Miles. "So must my Emmy," murmured his friend. There was a very anxious little widow on the jetty who could _not_ manage to distinguish individuals in the sea of brown faces and white helmets, because the tears in her eyes mixed them all up most perplexingly. It is not surprising that Miles had totally failed to recognise the mother of old in the unfamiliar widow's weeds--especially when it is considered that his was a shrinking, timid mother, who kept well in the background of the demonstrative crowd. Their eyes met at last, however, and those of the widow opened wide with surprise at the change in the son, while those of the son were suddenly blinded with tears at the change in the mother. Then they met--and such a meeting!--in the midst of men and women, elbowing, crowding, embracing, exclaiming, rejoicing, chaffing, weeping! It was an awkward state of things, but as every one else was in the same predicament, and as all were more or less swallowed up in their own affairs, Miles and his mother were fain to make the best of it. They retired under the partial shelter of a bulkhead, where block-tackles and nautical debris interfered with their footing, and tarry odours regaled their noses, and there, in semi-publicity, they interchanged their first confidences. Suddenly Mrs Milton observed a tall young fellow standing not far off, looking wistfully at the bewildering scene, apparently in deep dejection. "Who is that, Miles?" she asked. "Why, that's my comrade, chum, and friend, whom I have so often written about, Willie Armstrong. Come. I will introduce you." "Oh! how selfish of me!" cried the widow, starting forward and not waiting for the introduction; "Mr Armstrong--I'm _so_ sorry; forgive me! I promised to let you know that your wife waits to meet you at the Soldiers' Institute." The difference between darkness and light seemed to pass over the soldier's face, then a slight shade of anxiety clouded it. "She is not ill, is she?" "No, no, _quite_ well," said Mrs Milton, with a peculiar smile; "but she thought it wiser not to risk a meeting on the jetty as the east wind is sharp. I'm so sorry I did not tell you at once, but I selfishly thought only--" "Pray make no apology, madam," interrupted Armstrong. "I'm so thankful that all is well. I had begun to fear that something must be wrong, for my Emmy _never_ disappoints me. If she thinks it wiser not to meet on the jetty, it _is_ wiser!" A crowd of men pushed between them at this moment. Immediately after, a female shout was heard, followed by the words, "There he is! Och, it's himsilf--the darlint!" Mrs Flynn had discovered the little corporal, and her trooper son, Terence, who had come down with her, stood by to see fair-play while the two embraced.