"Poor Jimmy!" She whispered it to herself, with a softened look, as she saw him go to a cupboard and open it, and with many glances towards the door bring out a battered frying-pan, and a kettle that had also seen better days. Also, he found a cup and saucer, and a plate or two. Then, of course, the obvious miracle, while Jimmy stood watching wonderingly and admiringly. In no time at all a rasher and eggs were spluttering merrily over the fire, and the kettle was boiling, just to add another pleasant sound to the business. She made the tea in the kettle itself, gipsy fashion (the teapot was downstairs in charge of the dragon, it was explained), and in a trice had it poured out, and the eggs and bacon done to a turn, set before him. Her reward was in the hungry fashion in which he set to work upon it. But he paused between bites to look up at her anxiously. "You'll never tell anyone?" he demanded. She shook her head, and looked at him with perfect understanding. "Of course not, Jimmy; this is something quite between ourselves. You _were_ hungry, you know," she added, looking at the empty plates. "Feel better?" "Rather!" he replied gratefully. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come here this morning, and done--done this!" He indicated the hastily-arranged breakfast table as he spoke. "Now I want you to tell me all about yourself--and what you've been doing all these years. Do you know, Moira"--he went towards her, looking at her critically--"do you know that you've grown a woman?" "I'm afraid so," she said shyly. She turned her head quickly towards the door, listening. "Hush! she's coming back again," she whispered, with a mischievous laugh that was half a frightened one. "We'd better clear these things away." It was a hurried scrambling business; to tell the truth, they got somewhat in each other's way over the work; it was a mere frantic scurry, with whispers and soft laughter as they passed each other. But it was done before the door was opened, and Moira was back again in her place by the fire, and Jimmy standing looking down at her. As the door opened, he turned somewhat coldly towards it, feeling that now he could receive the landlady with some greater firmness for the food that was in him; moreover, he must show Moira that he was not to be set at nought lightly by a mere landlady. But his eyes opened to their roundest as he saw the two men who stood in the doorway--an old man and a young one. The old one he knew--had seen him more than once lately; it was Anthony Ditchburn. The face of the younger seemed familiar, but he did not at first recognise it. The slight exclamation to which he gave vent brought Moira's head round at once; she started to her feet. "Charlie!" she exclaimed in surprise; and then Jimmy knew in a moment who the second visitor was.