Meg laughed bitterly, and remained silent, so silent that her companion thought that she did not wish to talk; but as they neared London she could not refrain from asking another question. "What are you going to do when you get to London, Miss?" "I don't know." "Don't know where you're going! But that ain't safe. There 're wicked people about that takes advantage of a girl like you. Beg your pardon, Miss, I ought to have said young lady." "No," said Meg hastily, "I'm no lady. I tried to be one and failed. That's just my trouble. I ought never to have tried." The woman was silent. She began to wonder what sad story was connected with the sweet looking girl opposite to her. They were nearing London. Meg looked out on the backs of the houses that they passed, and grew frightened. "Is this London?" she asked fearfully. "We are getting near. Ain't there a lot of houses?" "It's dreadful." "You'll soon get used to it. I wish I knew of some nice rooms to tell you of. You oughtn't to be alone. If it wasn't that I have such a poor place I would ask you to come along of me. But it ain't fit for such as you." "It's very kind of you," said Meg. "But I shall make my way somehow. I shall be all right." Yet when she emerged from the train and stood among the crowd on the platform at Paddington station she felt in a maze of fear. Where to go or what to do she did not know. She was utterly bewildered. The little widow had said goodbye to her with a kind shake of the hand, wishing her good luck, and now the girl felt absolutely alone. She hesitated as to what to do next. Suddenly a well-dressed woman came up to her and asked her if she was waiting for anyone and if she could be of any service to her, she supposed she was looking for friends. Looking at the face of the woman Meg shrank back instinctively, and moved away. But the woman was insistent. "If there is anything that I can do for you," she said, "I'll be glad to do it. I can tell you of comfortable lodgings and reasonable. It isn't fit for young ladies to be alone in London, and I make a practice of meeting the trains so that no girl whose friends fail to meet her need find herself alone." Meg stood bewildered. The woman seemed kind, but her instinct told Meg to have nothing to do with her. However, being quite at a loss as to what to do, she was just about to accept the proffered help, when she felt her arm touched, and on looking round saw the little widow standing by her side. "If you don't mind my poor place," she said looking anxiously at the girl, "you're welcome to come home with me." Then taking her arm she gave it a little pull. Meg took the hint. "I shall be glad to come," she answered and hurried away.