"Wherever in this world I am, In whatsoe'er estate; I have a fellowship with hearts, To keep and cultivate; And a work of lowly love to do For the Lord on whom I wait." _A. L. Waring._ "Now then, jump in, Lil! Hurry up, young woman! What is the matter with the girl! Has not the guard just told us that the train is crowded, and that there is not another seat?" and Ralph Moore took hold of his sister's arm rather impatiently. Lilian had her foot on the step; but she still hesitated, and there was a decided frown on her pretty face. "It is quite full too," she said, rather crossly, "and it is so hot and stuffy;" and indeed, a crowded third-class compartment on a sultry August day is not a desirable locality; and Lilian's distaste and reluctance were only natural under the circumstances. "There's no help for it--in you go!" muttered Ralph, in a gruff voice, and a pair of muscular arms lifted the girl in; and the next moment the guard gave the signal, and the train moved slowly away. Ralph grinned triumphantly, as he lifted his straw hat a little derisively to his sister. Sheer muscular force of argument had prevailed over a girl's contumacy. "Little stupid!" he said to himself, as he whistled to his dogs. "I do believe she would rather have lost the train than put up with a little discomfort on the way." Lilian stood helplessly for a moment with her small Yorkshire terrier under her arm. No one moved or made room for her, until a cheery voice from the end of the compartment broke the silence. "There is lots of room, miss, between those two ladies. Let me hold your basket, ma'am, until the young lady is settled," and then, with a discontented expression, Lilian wedged herself into the fraction of space assigned for her use. "It is too bad of Ralph," she thought. "I shall get out at the next station; it is like the Black Hole in Calcutta; it is worse than a cattle-pen." On one side of her was the inevitable fat woman with a basket; on the other a shabby, red-faced widow, with a fretful baby; then came a couple of loutish-looking lads. On the seat opposite her there was a surly-looking man, and an old labourer in corduroy; two young market-women, with bundles of vegetables, and then the owner of the voice. Lilian regarded him with youthful arrogance and distrust. He looked like a shopman; he was a small, undersized young man, with a round boyish face. He had a thick crop of red hair, and looked as spruce as though he was out for a holiday; his red silk tie and the scarlet geranium in his buttonhole seemed to make a flaming spot of colour in the carriage. "The sun is in your eyes, miss," he observed the next moment; "the curtain has got wrong somehow; but if one of you ladies could oblige me with a pin, I will soon fix it," and he regarded Lilian with an affable smile. [Illustration: "RAINBOW GLORIES FLOODING FOREST, HILL AND VALE." [_From photo: Photographic Union, Munich._]