'But what sort of flower?' said the younger sister, eagerly. Nan's face flushed somewhat, and she seemed embarrassed and slow to answer. 'You--you should know yourself,' she said, turning her eyes aside. 'Any flower, perhaps--a bit of--of forget-me-not----' 'Of course that would do very well; but where could you get forget-me-nots just now?' Nan again hesitated; she seemed to be forcing herself to speak. 'There's a little bit in a button-hole in ----'s window,' she said, at last; 'I saw it there yesterday at least.' 'Dear Mother Nan,' said Madge, enthusiastically, 'you are as clever as twenty Vice-Chancellors! We will walk along at once, and see if it is still there. And in the meantime I will write a word on a sheet of paper--I can manage that anyway--and you might address an envelope----' 'Oh no, I couldn't do that,' said Nan, inadvertently shrinking back. 'Very well, I will struggle through it,' said Madge, blithely; and she went and got writing-materials, and scrawled the few words necessary. They went out into the beautiful clear cold morning, and walked along through the crowd of promenaders with their fresh-coloured faces and furs telling of the wintry weather. And in due course of time they arrived at the florist's window, and found the bit of forget-me-not still in the little nosegay. Madge made no secret of her intention. She opened up the nosegay on the counter of the shop; took out the piece of forget-me-not; put it in the folded sheet of paper; and then carefully--but with fingers no longer trembling--closed the envelope. When they had come out again, and gone and posted the letter, they found themselves at a standstill. 'Now I know you would like a longer walk, Nan,' said the younger sister, 'and I am sure you won't mind if I go back at once. I do so want to write a long letter to Mary. And I haven't told Edith yet, you know.' To this also Nan consented; and so Madge departed. Nan, left to herself, looked for a moment or two, somewhat wistfully, at the far breadths of the shining water; and then turned and walked slowly and thoughtfully along one of the wider thoroughfares leading up from the sea. The world seemed too bright and eager and busy out here; she wished to be alone, and in the dusk; and in this thoroughfare there was a church, spacious and gloomy, that was kept open all the week round. Half unconsciously to herself she walked in that direction. So absorbed was she that, when she reached the entrance, she scarcely perceived that there were some persons standing about. From the clear light of the sun she passed into a long covered way that was almost dark; there was a low sound of music issuing from the building; it was a refuge she was seeking; and she vaguely hoped that there would be few people within.